Pero las llamas son peligrosas - Larmer Tree Half Marathon

Pero las llamas son peligrosas. 

As Monty Python has told us, Llamas are dangerous. Yet this didn't put me off entering the Larmer Tree Half marathon during the autumn of 2014. Like a baby distracted by a mobile above it's cot, I'd seen the medals on offer by those crazy folk at White Star Running, entered the Bad Cow event, then seen an even more awesome medal for the Larmer Half. I'd paid my entry & then took a moment to look at the course profile. Bugger. Oh dear, what have I done. Oh, I appear to have roped my friends into this madness as well? Looks like I'm set for a day of pain and a lifetime of excommunication then.
You seen White Star do indeed do amazing medals, but you have to work for the damn things. You want bling? You have to exchange part of your soul for it, but there will at least be cake at the end.
How did I even get to this point? The Cambridge Half the week prior was meant to be the full stop on this training cycle. Forget how, why was I even signing up for an off road half marathon with a huge amount of elevation? I know my comfort zone & all this needed was a pantomime donkey to kick me in the balls every kilometre to make this a less pleasant experience surely?
In truth I wanted to test myself. This time last year I didn't even own trail shoes & mostly ran on my own. Now I had a choice of trails or mudclaws & would be running with one of my best friends so that we could suffer together. The majority of my half marathons have been big events, in the first fifteen I'd wager that maybe less than 1km was off road. In elevation terms, cumulatively they'd probably equal the Larmer.
First of course, I had to get to the start line......

Post Cambridge Half recovery

I'd rather unwisely agreed to a game of squash on Monday morning, feeling that the activity might be a good way to get everything moving again following the half marathon. My opponent hadn't played for years but had the shots, I soon lost the first game unexpectedly. I'd realised that he had little cardio so changed my game accordingly to try and wear him down to get back in. By 0-3 down it was clear that though this tactic was having some effect, there was more chance I'd need to call my opponent an ambulance that my appalling squash rising to the top. The match ended up being the last thing I needed, the more I fell behind the more I pushed, not exactly a gentle easing of the legs following a tough half!
My quads were still complaining throughout the week & it wasn't until Friday morning that I finally felt normal. Lucky then that I'd scheduled a run of the winter route around the forest with Karl from the HFPR core team. I was trying to film the course on a Go Pro borrowed from Notley's Len. Conditions were just about perfect & it was pleasing to see how much better the ground was underfoot. Unfortunately the battery died just after 4km as we entered the muddy phase. One downside to the improved conditions elsewhere on the course is that the muddy crescendo to the winter route had all but dried out, our runners would be missing out on the fun!
After finishing the run I was home, showered & onto the physio table before taking the train into London. I was there for the usual top up, but decided it was time to ask my physio to check on this nagging groin injury. A groin strain was the diagnosis, one that has probably been strained and recovered only to strain again repeatedly since first occurring last summer. No point in treating it on the Friday as that would rule out the half marathon. So I booked up a couple sessions to follow the half marathon, if the the basic diagnosis prodding was anything to go by, it would be damn painful. I was annoyed with myself that it had taken this long to get my physio to look at the issue. I'd put myself through some anguish in the months preceding as the injury manifested itself in different ways, I was just thankful that the injury itself was minor enough to still allow for a half marathon before being treated properly.

parkrun Pilot

Before I could head down to the west I had the small matter of the parkrun pilot at Hatfield Forest to contend with. The whole week had seen parkrun activity shoehorned into any available moment. Be it painting signage at 6am before work, getting home from overtime to build signs, spend the train journeys into London working on paperwork, if I had a spare moment it was filled with parkrun in one form or another. The whole week was tiring, I felt like a plate spinner, just about keeping everything going.
Even at 8pm when I'd got home from work I still had plenty to do. Signs still needed attaching to posts, the whole parkrun paraphernalia needed loading into the Alfa that was bursting at the seams. At half ten I took a dinner break and allowed myself half an hour. Sure the volunteer lanyards still needed making up, but I needed just half an hour.

One whole parkrun fits nicely into the Alfa

I slept pretty well considering, if I get as good a night of sleep for the inaugural I'd be pleasantly surprised. I had started to cut up Lanyards whilst waiting for a cup of tea to cool, but realised it would take far longer than I felt I had available to me so quickly chucked everything into my various boxes & loaded the remainder into the car & headed to the forest. The core team started to arrive at 7am and we set about trying to understand how to setup the course.
We seemed to figure it out & our volunteers added new roles such as stationary support to help get all of the laminates ready. By ten to nine the sun had joined us & we were saying hello to all of our runners.

Never will the parkrun kit be this neat ever again!

Everyone seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, our tail came through in under 30 minutes, perhaps they all knew I had to get down to Wiltshire. Sadly we had some IT issues, but after decamping to the estate office we were able to get the results uploaded to the parkrun test site and after some head scratching got them all sorted out.
We were also able to get some good feedback on the course & some tweaks we could make to the course & our processes. Even the results hiccup was an experience, giving us a chance to try the various options on the processing site to see how the outcome was changed.

The Larmer Tree Half

We've established how I ended up entered for the Larmer Half, blinded by the shiny. All I now needed to do was get there. Paul & Emily had made their way down earlier in the day to see Stone Henge & we'd all booked into a Travelodge nearby for some consistent mediocrity you'd expect. Regular readers will know that I recently added a random factor to my life by buying an Alfa. True to form, the Motor Control System Failure alert started the moment I pulled onto the M11 southbound. Nothing drive wise appeared to be wrong, so funk it, let's carry on. In fact, apart from being a bit beepy every time it is started, the Alfa was a joy to drive on it's first major journey.
I was soon at the Travel Tavern on the A303, catching up with Emily & Paul who wanted the low down on the pilot. After some carb loading in nearby Salisbury & an emergency purchase of plasters, it was time to sleep ahead of the further 40 minute journey down to the Larmer Tree Gardens in the morning.
I'd packed for every eventually, Cold, Ok and really warm, in fact I had enough kit for three runs! I'd also packed extra gels as the trail nature of the course would add time & therefore might need more replenishment.

Be prepared is what I was taught at Cubs

Paul was starting an hour before us for the 20 miler, so we picked our numbers up & mooched for a bit. This led to be purchasing another awesome White Star product, nothing if not predictable! The only pre race feedback we could give is that race category signage above the desks would have been handy & avoided being in the wrong queues, a minor issue though.

Pre race smiles....

Soon it was our turn to start, though the briefing was going on whilst I was still in a portaloo! In fact we ended up crossing the line at the back of the pack, not ideal but the course was wide enough initially to still get into a rhythm.
Emily & I had run together previously when I'd paced her at the HBO 10k last year, this was an altogether more relaxed setting. The nature of the course had led me to the belief that anything within 30 minutes of the Cambridge Half would be a good result. We had the bizarre sight of a pacing tractor at one point. It appears one of the local farmers had just driven straight onto the country lane & was now limited by the runners in front until they could find an appropriate point to leave the road. Fair play to the driver, seemed to be going at a nice 6:00/km pace, shame it was just too far ahead for us to grab a tow!

The pacing tractor

The first few kilometres seemed to fly by. A brief stop at an aid station for Emily to take on water & at one point she even suggested that maybe the 20 miler wouldn't be so bad (more on that later). Our initial pace was decent, though I had to keep reminding myself that this was not a race for the stopwatch, this was an experience race.
I found myself enjoying the run, truth be told, it was flippin awesome. I was completely outside of my comfort zone, technically injured & loving every minute of it. The terrain was constantly changing, the course was a literal roller-coaster, yet we were able to keep going.
Or at least we were.....
Then this appeared.
I've christened many hills in my parkrun career as a #hillofdoom. When this came into view it was a #hillofohthatcanfunkrightoff. The hill was expected, we'd seen it on the course map, but theory & reality are two different things. What didn't help was seeing it from a distance, you could see that no one was running up it. That's a slight untruth, we saw one person start running up it & then succumb to walking very quickly.

The hill comes into view

And then more into view.....

We chose to walk it up, it made much more sense. Perhaps if it had been tarmac instead of soft grass it might have been manageable. Even walking was tough, halfway up my groin made it's displeasure known, just another 8km to get my knackered body through. It didn't help that the painkillers I thought I'd packed turned out to be in the boot of the Alfa waiting for me upon my return. Bit of a failure.

The view from the top of the #hillofohthatcanfunkrightoff

If the ascend was tough, then the descend that followed was probably the most technical I've faced. My lack of experience in trail running came to the fore here. I decided running on my heels to be the most logical way. That didn't last long as the route kept turning & involved lots of branches that even Emily had to evade! Scuttling like a crab became the method & soon we were at the bottom of the hill.
Thankfully the Lovestation was waiting for us. Yes folks, you read that correctly, the Lovestation. White Star don't do normal aid stations. At this point you could hug a man with a kilt and a badger on his sporran, grab a cheeky cider or blackberry vodka. Perhaps a flat coke would take your fancy before you loaded up on cocktail sausages, mini scotch eggs and jelly babies. And of course no one leaves the Lovestation without a hug!

Emily & the badger merkin guy

I opted for flat coke (good idea), a jaffa cake (good idea), a mini scotch egg (bad idea) and some jelly beans (should have been a good idea). The reason a scotch egg is a bad idea, the size of one is roughly the same as your mouth, so chewing it whilst running isn't easy. Secondly, another chuffing steep hill followed the Lovestation, so trying to run uphill, struggling for air with a mini scotch egg blocking the intake seems like a bad combination. Thirdly, they repeat on you for ages, even when you try to wash them down with jelly beans.

The Lovestation

Goodies galore at the Lovestation

Once my attempt at scotch egg asphyxiation had been avoided we were ready to carry on with the rest of the run. With the post Lovestation hill out of our way we were able to get back into a bit of a rhythm. Mud seemed to be becoming the prevalent theme of the remaining miles. We thought some respite was due when we pulled onto a nice country lane, only for it to lead to the last aid station & a turn into more mud.

Won't these hills stop?

The "Say Cheese" function on the new phone generally produces confused gurning from me

The majority of the last three miles appeared to be mostly mud, with a bit of woodland trail mixed in with some hills. By now were we walking up any significant hill, especially the muddy ones as the trail shoes weren't providing much traction. It made much more sense to walk at a pace, easily the same pace as a tired run uphill & useful for preserving the remaining energy. Here the mudclaws would have been handy, but they'd have been pointless on the road sections. An attempted leap over a muddy puddle left both groins feeling it, thankfully no lasting damage, just a moment of pain.

More damn hills?

The miles of mud were starting to impact our pace, the legs definitely tiring. Thankfully we soon turned for home, the trail was coming to an end, it was time to cross the road to enter the Larmer Tree Estate. As we climbed the last gentle hill towards the finish we saw Paul to the side & gave him a wave. For some reason unbeknown to either of us we agreed on a sprint finish & I was pleasantly surprised to find some gears left. The race had been a test for the legs, but the cardio was still good.
No medals at the end, we established why already. Instead a choice of a beer or a buff (though I believe for contractual reasons they call them muffs). As I was driving I opted for the buff, a handy bit of kit for when I'm standing around in charge of the parkrun.
I walked through the finish area & found a post to collapse against. That was by far the toughest event I'd taken part in. At 2:26 & change it was the longest run in terms of duration that I've completed. Just over 300m over elevation gain, yet I loved it. I loved the challenge & the feeling of being outside of my usual comfort zone. The race taught me how to adapt to the conditions & by keeping going I realised that I can make the step up to marathon distance in Berlin. I could have easily not taken part, I had good reason not to, but by getting through I gave myself a confidence boost of knowing that I could win the mental battle, as well as the physical.

One groin knackered on me, one knee knackered on Emily

After 50% extra miles & 66% more elevation, Paul was in an advanced state of seizing up

The Eat

Did I mention that WSR laid on free food afterwards as well? After changing into some slightly more pleasant clothes we wandered gingerly back to race HQ, which was now acting as a food hall. On finishing we'd all been given food tokens & after Paul had mentioned Mac & Cheese there was only one thing on my mind. Combined with a big pint of full fat coke it was precisely what I needed. After the food we were all starting to feel slightly more human & ready to make the journey north, the Alfa beeping all the way!

Under this mountain of food is a magma of mac & cheese

A driving home snack, real men eat quiche

Proper dirty beige food in the evening once home. So much beige

The Conclusion

My slowest half marathon. My longest run. The most elevation consumed in a run. Who cares, it was flipping awesome! The first four years of running were an ode to tarmac & getting faster. This past year I've found myself starting to embrace trails, experiences & the social side of running. Spending a couple of hours running with a friend around some stunning, albeit challenging countryside was a great way to spend a day. Rarely do I run & take lots of photos, that wasn't the case during the Larmer, not taking yourself or the race too seriously was the order of the day.

Stole us some peacocks as a temporary replacement for medals. My peacock, Burt is particularly partial to Mountain Dew & Black Jacks.

The guys at White Star Running made the day just about perfect. A chat to a friendly race official whilat queuing for a post race drink made it clear why the event worked so well. They're all runners & designed the event based on what they'd like to see at events. Cool medals, well stocked aid stations, funny signage, free photos, an event with personality. The Cambridge Half a week prior was the kind of homogenous race that could have been staged in any city, the Larmer Races were one of a kind.
The decision to sign up was on a whim based on the medal, the satisfaction on completing the race was measurable with any other high spot in my running career. I'll be back at a WSR race again in August for the Bad Cow weekend & I for one can't wait.

The course profile. Ouch.

Cambridge Half

I don't think I've ever been quite so relaxed about an event. I was almost apathetic, indifferent to the Cambridge Half. The original aim had been to target 1:50:00, training, illness, fitness and carrying too much weight meant that wasn't going to happen. Not having a target freed from worry. Mentally I found myself with an uncluttered mind for the first time in months.
Joel had enquired as to what I was aiming for, I casually stated a sub 2 would be nice, but I wasn't fussed, miles for Larmer a week later would be good. He had toyed with an attempt at 2:15 and I'd offered to pace, but he didn't feel overly confident so we parked that idea.
On the morning of the event I quickly checked what a sub 2 pace would be; 5:41/km, gulp, quicker than anything distance wise I'd managed for a while, but races always give you a little performance boost.
After a midweek run around the forest with Simon at Hatfield Forest parkrun summer course record holder Jack, I felt in decent shape. I found my groin / abductor playing up a bit, but not enough to stop running (doesn't hurt whilst running). I should really get that checked before Berlin training starts in earnest.
I was that ambivalent to the race that it wasn't until around half nine in the evening that I found the race pack! With a half five alarm set I managed to get all of my stuff together, no double or triple checking either, this was like a new me!
It had been nice and warm during the day as a group of us had installed permanent signage for Great Notley parkrun. It was nice to sign off my time there by contributing.
After a quick bath, yes the bath is finally back in business!!!! I was off to sleep, ready for what would be my 15th half marathon in the morning.

Pre Race

Chuffing cold. I was absolutely chuffing cold wandering Midsummer Common. I'd followed the instructions and got there early. I had nearly two hours to kill after the park and ride dropped us off. I need to get myself some nice elasticated jogging bottoms to take to races, my knees were knocking with cold and I was far too lazy to take my running shoes off and put jeans on. Nearly five years a runner and still learning this stuff.
I parked myself next to the Erdinger Alkoholfrei Beer stand to catch folks as they came in. Fellow HFPR core team colleague Sam was also running, aiming for a 1:54 so I'd not be running with him!
Fellow Um Bongo cohorts Joel and Fergie arrived, Ferg outdoing me in the cold stakes by being in only his running gear! We queued up for 20 minutes for a tea to get halfway down the line and realise no one really wanted a tea by the time we'd get to the front of the line! For once I wasn't full of nervous energy, so constantly rejoining the toilet line wasn't necessary. Bag drop was a nightmare, thankfully Nic had the buggy and was happy to hold bags. As ever an event was slightly underdone in terms of toilets and bag drop volunteers. As I was in a good place this wasn't playing on my anxieties though.

Pre Race - Smiling far too much

On my way to the start it said hello to a couple of folks I'd recognised from our parkrun fundraiser. It was great to start seeing folks from what will be our Hatfield Forest community.

The Race

There appeared to be three two hour pacers, yet they'd decided to run as a group, which is bizarre as you usually split them up a bit within a pen to stop massive bunches of runners. The start was very prompt and within a couple of minutes I crossed the line, the pacers already blasting off. I wasn't going to try and hang with them, I knew 5:41/km would deliver me across the line in two hours and I had no idea how the race itself would go.
You'll often hear of people starting too fast, it has certainly been the case for me in other races. I'm now finding though that once a race has a decent number of runners (4,500 at Cambridge) you'll generally find yourself slower than expected in the first kilometre due to everyone being quite compact. I've tried to start at pace before and found myself getting wound up and frustrated. This was almost the zen race so I just accepted it for what it was.
The first kilometre was also slightly uphill, no point over exerting and I wasn't surprised to get through just shy of six minutes, 18 seconds in deficit. Here the experience of this being my 15th half allowed me to relax, just get into a rhythm and everything will sort itself out.
Another second over in the second click, but that was a good indicator that I'd already settled into a pace. Cambridge was as flat as I could remember and after some ring road fun we were treated to the first entry into the city centre.
It was barely half nine and I was already searching out shade, the sun did indeed have it's hat on, hip hip hooray, unless you're a runner of course! Some tight turns throughout the city made the course challenging for a pancake flat one, the only hill of note during the first lap was merely a steep bridge!
I felt good and by five kilometres was on track and consistently under target pace. An elongated out and back gave me a chance to see Joel on the course. A bit more on the course here. OSB the organisers had put together a nearly nice loop that included three visits into the city centre. Here a combination of supporters and bemused tourists gave a big event feel, as did proper barricades with the title sponsor branded across them. Compared with the Helsinki City Run, this felt very much like an event being embraced by the city.
After the third city section we were heading back out towards Midsummer Common. A brief chat with a parkrunner from Wimpole was rudely interrupted by some clown purposefully barging through people and then giving the finger. Sadly in an event of nearly five thousand people there's always going to be one arsehole (I did spot his runner number later on, just saying OSB....). On the whole it felt like a very sociable event.
I soon found myself at the start of the second lap and thanks to some consistent kilometres under target by around a minute. I was into my supply of High 5 gels by this point, though feeling good I was guarding against my trademark 10 mile fade.
Instead I found myself maintaining pace, slightly slower than 4-10km, but still either just over or under target pace. In fact, my pace held up throughout and I found time to chat with various other runners as we wound through the city. The support was absolutely fantastic.
As I approached Midsummer Common for a second time I felt good, but ready to call it a day. I'd managed my fuel tank nicely as I entered the final click, spotting Fergie to one side.

Finishing strongly. And colour coordinated for once....

The finish was misleading, you entered the common only to be diverted away for a bit of an out and back. So near, yet so far!
I didn't feel a sprint finish would achieve anything, but the gun time clock was counting up to 2 hours so with the crowd also counting my last stride was a little leap to secure the gun time sub 2.

The Conclusion

A pleasantly surprising result, 1:57:42. My pacing and energy had been good throughout and my expectations had been surpassed. I even saw fellow core team member Sam just ahead of me in the finish funnel. He'd clocked a time only 40 seconds quicker than me & looking at our times, I was slowly reeling him in as the run continued. I'd managed to come in just behind the pack of two hour pacers, they must have been around three minutes under pace, which would have been too much for many looking to pass that threshold for the first time.

Sam & I more pleased with the medals than alcohol free beer

I was very pleased with the effort. The long runs during this training cycle had all been of decent quality. Though the speed work had been minimal, once I'd skirted round the bad weather at this time of year & the coughs & colds that come with it, I'd trained relatively well for this half. This was the first time I'd been going into a half not feeling under prepared. Usually I find myself missing a couple of crucial long runs & getting to the end on fumes. During this cycle I'd had a few long slow runs over the 10 mile mark, running time rather than distance & over much more elevation than you could find in Cambridge. Given the preparation there is a lot to be happy about with this result. Sure, I could look back at what was meant to be a 1:50:00 attempt, but my focus changed very early on. This run turned into another long run practice before the Larmer Tree Half. A completely different run, except for the 21.1km distance.

A good quality medal

One item of concern was that my constant partner since August was again present. More groin pain, mainly before the run & afterwards. Something must be wrong, it's time to get this checked before marathon season starts.

The race itself was very well organised. As ever, some more toilets would make sense, especially with the amount of space on offer at Midsummer Common. Plenty that were queuing would have either missed the start or be running round with full bladders. The PA was clear, though way too loud in the post race village, was like someone rudely shouting over everyone! No official photos either. £18 per digital image is just extortion. Surely at even half the price you'd sell plenty, it is a self defeating pricing policy.

The Eat

Despite a Steak & Honour van in the race village, I had eyes for only one thing. Once Joel had joined us after a 2:19, it was time for a visit to the ice cream van. Sadly £2 for a 99 Flake is par for the course at events these days, but I couldn't care, Mr Whippy was needed after what turned out to be quite a warm run. The organisers had laid on alcohol free beer as well for every finisher. I tried to enjoy it, but firstly alcohol free takes the one main point of beer out and two, a big gassy pint isn't what the doctor ordered.

Mr Whippy all round!

I'd reserved my Cocio chocolate milk for the journey home & asked Paula to pick up some good burgers whilst out for my evening sustenance. Served in a brioche bun, with baked parma ham, brilliantly melty dutch cheese, avocado and some thousand island sauce, I'm getting good at putting these burger combos together.

I has burger. Very good burger.

No rest for the wicked though, I had an afternoon of parkrun sign making before I could allow myself a chance to relax.

You don't see the signs because you're blind...

HM Week 9 - Up North

The final straight of the half marathon training. I'm not really sure what the plan has achieved at present. There's been barely any speed work, but a good quota of long runs. I've built stamina rather than pace this time around. Cambridge won't see a PB, but it could be one of my most consistent performances.

The penultimate week before Cambridge saw a change of schedule. I'd planned a visit to the North for the weekend to catch up with one of my Tokyo partners in crime, James. He was going to introduce me to his weekend vice, Burnley Football Club and I'd be introducing him to mine, parkrun.
With all of this in mind it was time to shake the week around a bit. As predicted last week, Monday was indeed full of post cricket aches and after a work trip ruled out Tuesday and Wednesday, by midweek I was hankering for a run. Thankfully core team colleague Paul was game and we arranged to meet at 0645 at the forest car park on Thursday morning.

Before that could happen we had some Wednesday night excitement. Our parkrun website went live, slightly earlier than expected and I spent the evening trying to downplay the inaugural, knowing the limitations of the venue during the winter season in terms of car parking and extolling the virtues of our even more awesome summer course. Locally the genie has already escaped the bottle after the fundraising event, so all of the preparation will focus on managing what will very likely be a large attendance. I was still buzzing by the time I managed to try and sleep, the goodwill from just getting to this point made me very proud of what we'd done so far.

Thursday morning arrived with a reminder that I really could have done with a bit more sleep. Thankfully a stunning forest on a nice spring morning was more than sufficient to clear the cobwebs away. We opted for another lap of the winter route, testing the turn around point once more. I'm hoping the refine the route once we have summer to play with. The out and back section has its merits, as a team we're looking at ways to reconfigure it slightly. It certainly provides a great high five opportunity!

On our way round the forest we bumped into NT Simon, running with the current summer course record holder, his dog Jack. After a brief chat we finished off the course, the muddy section continues to be exactly that, a little icing on the cake, you can't visit a forest without getting a little bit muddy after all!

The last long run

Friday morning marked the start of my weekend. Despite this, the alarm was still set for work o'clock, allowing me to get out nice and early for an extended loop to the north of Stansted.
Another stunning more, but a bitterly cold one. The barriers were down at Elsenham so I scaled the staircase and paused to take in the sunrise with a member of the Greater Anglia staff, he was right, a beautiful day would be in the offing.
Once past Elsenham I continued on the country roads until the junction near Newport, turned and headed back into Quendon. Continuing south would take me home with a basic ten miler. Instead I turned into Rickling and made my way across the ice to Manuden.
At this point the gloves went back on. I was an hour into the run, but my hands were suffering in the cold air. From Manuden I had a simple 4km to return to Stansted. Simple once you remove the climbs out of Manuden, into Bentfield Bower and Bentfield Green itself. With the Cambridge Half being flat, these hills might seem unnecessary, but Larmer Tree a week later offers a whole different prospect.
My pace did start to slip away towards the end of the run. I'd only taken on one gel, at halfway and the climbs did fatigue me a bit. I also wasn't interested in pushing. Getting another two hours into the legs was more important than pace. I have to keep reminding myself that distance rather than pace is the goal for 2015.

Pendle parkrun

After a bargain fiver journey to Leeds, I found myself in what is known as The North. In return for James' hospitality I cooked on Friday night. Picking up supplies meant a visit to Booths, a high end food chain based out of Lancashire. My food bill would be dangerously high if I had one of these within my grasp, please don't expand further south (oh go on, please do). I served up some steak (predictably), with green beans and asparagus, a far more healthy combo than the fish and chips the next evening!
Saturday morning soon arrived and a mere five minute drive took us to Pendle parkrun.
I'm not sure what first alerted me to Pendle having a pavilion named in my honour, but when it turned out to be the most local parkrun it made sense to visit. A brief enquiry mid week on twitter confirmed that trail shoes would be the most appropriate footwear. As ever with parkrun, the weather was grim beforehand, but magically got slightly less grim once the clock struck 0900. The Run Director had promised that if we tried hard and concentrated we could see some sunshine if we looked down the valley.
Me? I was concentrating on the look down. The crew at Pendle appeared well briefed, the course description was a communal effort, down the hill, up the hill (less enthusiastically), then do it all again. It appeared James did indeed live close to a parkrun, one that was according to the locals the toughest in the area. Gulp.
The start was fun, a school like sprint down hill, with lots of bumps thrown in for good measure. I was already experiencing soggy feet, my inner numpty had not allowed the trail shoes to dry out from the forest run earlier in the week. By the first turn I was also experiencing a stubbed toe. I can only think that clumsiness had led to me treating on a stick and slamming my opposing big toe into it, either that or I'd hit a rock. Not fun, took a while to shake it off.
The first half of the lap involved navigating around the rugby and football pitches, every time you reached the end of the length of a pitch you had to turn and climb.A good guide to how a run is going is when you watch rings up a split and it surprises you. When I passed through the one kilometre mark I too was surprised, how can I have only completed just one kilometre??? It was going to be a long & tough day at the office.

Mercifully the long down hill section is all on tarmac, usually I try & maintain shape, but I could see the climb back up that was waiting for me, so why not, just gun it down & enjoy the respite! Sadly it came to an end far too soon & the climb back up to the finish area to complete the first lapt was laid out in front of me. It was one of those hills. The type that starts off shallow, then got steeper as it continued. At least the shallow section was on tarmac, the moment the angle changed we were on to some really rough hard standing, with drainage gulleys every few metres for good measure. I managed to keep running throughout, but given the walkers around me, this might not have been the right decision.

I managed to navigate the first downhill of the lap more successfully this time around, no damage to the toes. The soft underfoot conditions just kept sapping away at my legs, I can understand now why they is so much coverage of soft, firm, good to firm etc in horse racing. This pantomime horse managed to slog around the fields one more time, chuntering to the photographer about there being no hills in Essex! The 20km from the day before were certainly being felt, perhaps not the wisest decision the day before.

Another event at which I moved too fast to be photographed

The downhill didn't feel so generous second time around, but as promised at the start, the sun did start to break through. Sadly it didn't improve my mood once the last uphill stretch came into view. I chose to walk up the final steep section, I wasn't alone, although I think it was a good 18 months since I'd last resorted to walking at a parkrun. Brentwood pushed me close the week before, but this was a proper walk. I tried to march up and still made decent progress up the hill, kicking back into a run once I could see the finish line.

Pendle parkrun course profile. A toughie

Crossing the line for the second successive week over the 28 minute mark. So very slow! Based on the soft conditions combined with the hill, another truly tough parkrun. It appears there is more tarmac being introduced, that'll certainly help drop some times, but it will also lower the challenge. With 107m of elevation over the course of 5km, this event held more climbing over a parkrun distance than I'd completed in nearly four times that the day before, which surprised me as I'd been seeking out hills! Perhaps the steepness of the climb is what did for me. I need to reassess how I approach some climbing, knowing when a fast walk would be more sensible is the key.

Where's James?

I'd not really paid much attention to where James actually was on the course! I'd not collected him during my second lap so assumed he must have been loving it as much as I was! After a couple of minutes I saw him coming into view, I even pointed him out to the Run Director as my debutant friend. Then he stopped, turned and hurled. It was like a projectile scene from Bottom, quite impressive!

Here he is!

In the slowest 100m finish parkrun has seen we eventually welcomed James into the finish funnel. Turns out he'd tried to run up the hill on the second occasion and having taken on too much water, nature took over!

Introducing James to the post parkrun ritual

Once feeling a bit better he told me he'd be back next week (and this post has taken so long I can confirm he did). I'd tried to encourage a name of James the Chunderer, not sure if it'll catch on! To want to come back and conquer that hill again tells you just how warm and friendly the whole Pendle event was. We decamped to the aforementioned Holt House Pavilion where tea was available as well as some awesome brownies (and flapjacks, though one sugar hit was enough). This was a real community event, the kind of atmosphere I'd hope to have at the forest.

I'm kind of a big deal in the north.....

The Conclusion

Pendle can be added to my hill of doom collection. Sure, it's probably just a standard hill to them, but I was yearning for a return to Essex. With over 100m of elevation gain in just 5km, it's a toughie. 

The Football

The last plan for the weekend was a visit to Turf Moor, Burnley vs Swansea. The atmosphere was again good, the kid in front of us losing it at every opportunity was entertaining. The match itself was last in the running on Match of the Day, a 1-0 away win courtesy of an own goal. Not quite an epic! It was probably my first premier league game since the 90's. Sadly my presence wasn't enough to lift a performance out of either team!

EPL Soccertainment

HM Week 8 - Almost there

Better late than never? I could have easily penned this update straight after my visit to Brentwood parkrun on the Saturday afternoon, instead kept meaning to get to it as the week went on, but found myself getting progressively busier. Now, nearly two weeks after the event, here comes my ode to Brentwood....
In summary, week eight of my half marathon plan was another successful progression. I finally did a bit of tempo work with a fartlek run around London one lunchtime. I'd hate to think what a fartlek run looks like to a passer by. Some nutcase sprinting, walking and the jogging in-between, probably looks like a complete non runner clueless to how you're meant to run. The session was hard work though, those walking rest periods never feel long enough.
No major aches though so it was a case of good workout banked and move on.

Brentwood parkrun

February 21st had been marked in the calendar for some time. The event had launched in December, but I'd kept volunteering at Great Notley before Xmas so the opportunity to head across hadn't been there. January was a hectic phase of run and race directing. I'd caught up with Event Director Leigh over email and discussed when he'd be around as I was eager to meet him and absorb more parkrun experience. The third Saturday of the month worked and I'd also persuaded Alec to make the trip, he did make to the inaugural and had been talking it up ever since.
Our events share an ambassador & Gerry had mentioned how similar we were to Brentwood, the major difference being their course added hills to the mix. So I was prepared for tough, or was I?
Leigh had spotted me and once his RD duties allowed we exchanged a brief hello, we'd catch up after the run. The drive down to Brentwood had been really straight forward with both motorways being clear, the event was easier to get to than some closer on the map. They'd been some rain during my journey and I was hoping it was heading in a different direction to me.
This would mark the parkrun debut of the mudclaws, unless you count pre parkrun tours around the forest. I was glad for the addition of seal skinz socks as the course was the muddiest they'd seen it!
After a short but sweet briefing we wandered up to the start area, where Leigh started us with the church bells still ringing for nine o'clock. It was quite a sight for a dog walker who suddenly had around a hundred people hurtling down hill towards them! The first half kilometre was all downhill, first on a field, then on hardstanding paths. After crossing a bridge the course turns right and once you're through a field you find yourself climbing all the way to 2km. The gradient wasn't too bad, but the distance of the climb made it hard work.

First parkrun for the mudclaws

I could still see Alec in the distance, his bright yellow HBO shirt meant he stood out quite nicely, despite the field becoming stretched.
Just after 2km we turned into a woodland area and the sparsity of the field made it hardwork to identify the route at one point. Underfoot conditions were soft at best as we navigated fields and round a deer enclosure. After crossing one of the tracks in the estate I was soon heading back down to the bridge. A short uphill would take me back to the finish. Sadly a short uphill would also cut a kilometre or so from the course, instead I turned left and headed down to a rare sight on the course, a marshal. Event Director has managed to create a very lean event, something I was envious of with quite a manpower heavy course myself.
The final kilometre was laid out in front of me after passing the marshal, a bit more flat, then what appeared to be gentle uphill, some flat, another little climb then a nice descend to finish.
On starting the climb I appeared to be reeling Alec back in, a rare occurrence these days. Unfortunately by the midpoint of the climb I realised why. This innocent looking hill was a breaker. Such soft underfoot conditions that progress would have been easier through treacle. I wanted to walk, I hadn't walked at a parkrun for a long time. I really wanted to walk, this was daft, why had I got out of bed?
I managed to get to the point where it flattened out and grabbed some respite. I'd kept going, no walking for me. Now all I had was a brief bit of up before the downhill to the finish. By the time I'd got to the photographer at the end of this last climb I'd realised the tank was truly empty. It wasn't so much a sprint finish, more a barely passable bimple.

Slightly muddy

I stopped the watch, grabbed my finish token and found myself at ninety degrees trying to collect myself. I was knackered, completely done.
I caught up with Leigh and we started talking all things parkrun, he was keen for feedback and I was keen for advice. A perfect combination. Not that I was overly coherent for the first few minutes!

Veloviewer of Brentwood parkrun. Figure of eight circuit.

The Conclusion

In the immediate aftermath I tweeted the following:

 

Shock and awe. A term used back in my uni days to sum up a military tactic. It could also lend itself to Brentwood parkrun. I was shocked at how much it took out of me. A mid 28 time is, based solely on average times for me alone, appalling. It doesn't however take into account conditions. The hills of doom at Wimpole & Great Notley haven't defeated me in recent history. The difference is, they are a momentary distraction. Brentwood is unrelenting. You start fast downhill, get a covering of mud, climb for an age, take on some more mud, bit of downhill (to take you back through the first mud), then climb some more. Want to sprint finish? Good luck, Brentwood will have emptied you.
I'm in sheer awe. The course was the toughest I've experienced. I hated it. I loved it. It left me wanting to curl up in a ball and find some nice flat tarmac. It left me wanting more. In most cases you'll find routes have a bit of give & take. On this occasion, potentially due to the conditions, it felt like 95% carrot, 5% stick. Will I be back? Absolutely. The course will be perfect training for Endure and a good gauge through the summer to my marathon training.
The entirety of the challenge enthralled me, this parkrun is an absolute gem and goes to the top of many lists. I'm sure it'll be kinder in the summer or when frozen, but part of me will have an eye on bad weather and hoping it coincides with future visits.

The week also included some parkrun sign making

The Long Run

So after a brutal parkrun and just before the first cricket net of the season would be the logical time to sneak in the longest run of my training cycle wouldn't it?
There was some logic to it, some method to the madness. After the first net I'm generally an achy mess, though working from home on the Monday would allow for a long run, I didn't want any excuses.
So at 0634 I was out, heading towards Bishop's Stortford on a bright Sunday morning. Having seen a route my core team colleague Paul had taken through Birchanger, I decided to head this way as an alternative to reaching Stortford.
My last proper experience of climb in the village was during the Birchanger 11k of 2011 (officially marketed as a 10k, but something appeared to go a bit wrong with the measuring wheel). I'd forgotten just how long the hill lasted for, a great start to a run after the exertion the day before!!
Once the A120 was negotiated I was into Stortford and found myself consistently at a decent 5:50-6:00/km pace. I passed the golf club and chose to head to the running club. I knew I needed around 10km around Stortford so the plan was to freestyle my way around. After getting back towards the town centre I picked a random left turn when the climb looked challenging and kept making random turns until I eventually found myself at the base of the hill to the rugby club. This was the intention, yet the journey there included parts of Stortford I'd never seen in nearly 5 years of living there in my past!
A tough slog got me to the rugby club, then the cricket club and back, almost towards Stansted. The route even allowed for a diversion around Lime Kiln Lane as I approached home.
A nice twenty kilometres banked, a good long run. Onto the roller, get showered, scoff some breakfast and then straight out of the door for cricket, no rest for the insane!!
After two hours of bowling (not risking the tendinitis by batting at present) I was reduced to bowling spin, albeit probably at a greater pace than my usual slow medium filth. I wasn't surprised to find myself falling asleep on the sofa by 6pm!!!

The Eat

It has taken so damn long to put this post together I'm struggling to recall the highlights! A visit to Five Guys on the Saturday night and a humongous steak on Sunday finished the week perfectly!

Going All in at Five Guys