OK folks, so this was to be the biggest test so far. As previously blogged Jack Daniels’s formulae had predicted a PB could be on the cards. Drama ! Excitement ! All roads would lead to Balloch. Which (if you are from out of town) means that all roads led to Glasgow. In reality, from here in darkest Argyll you simply turn right, as that’s the only road south. It was serendipitous that the date of the Balloch-Clydebank half-marathon matched the date of the proposed half-marathon in my training plan. It seemed somehow fated – as if athletic gods willed this date as deeply auspicious. My big chance to unleash the athlete-within upon an unsuspecting world. But this is the “only-child” talking (*) – the universe has better things to do than arrange half marathons on my account and whatever gods there may be would have been infinitely better-off focused on the Japanese coastline. Whatever - race day dawned.
The day before had dawned too but that was in flurry of snow and sleet as this endless winter wrestles with a reluctant spring. BBC travel websites showed significant snow on the “Rest and Be Thankful” – a magnificent hiatus on the ascending route from Argyll to Glasgow. My poor old Audi A3 would never cope. The car might contribute in some infinitesimally minute way to saving the planet but it cannot cope with ice and snow. My next change will be a 4-Wheel drive somthing. I'm sorry Al Gore – I guess we here in Argyll must be some perverse “edge effect” thrown up by a planet warming everywhere else. Anyway I had to miss a trip to link up with my cousin Harper and his wonderfully welcoming wife Linda. They were attending a wedding outside Glasgow and I had the opportunity to be an actual “Wedding Guest”. I cannot tell you how much I was looking forward to stopping one of three (**). Harper is a special guy and his mum (she might be his Mum but more importantly she's my Aunt) is undoubtedly the kindest most selfless person I have ever known. So missing the link-up due to the weather simply ‘sucked’.
Given this context I didn’t think the race would happen for me and had a plan “B” involving dreadmills (***). But as stated above the day duly dawned and I was ‘sort of’ ready. Actually I was not very ready at all. If you’ve been paying attention you will know that the week before was the 10k race that should have been the month before but was also postponed due to weather. So actually this was taper week 2 !!! That’s a serious overdose of taper - very little running and what there was tended to be very short sessions. In fact WGITW (****) so much that week that I had no cycling either. And I know that WGITW is no excuse – it’s simply that my time management and prioritization is rubbish. I did manage 2 swims though but given that I did almost no running the week was almost the definition of a vacation – but without sunhats, palm trees, ice-cream, margharitas, sand, etc etc.
I packed the night before - sorted out my race belt : (I’m “218” this time), checked nutrition (one gel 20m pre start & one at the 5mile water station) , charged the wretched evil Sat Nav, selected an infinity of clothing options, checked forecasts and then ….had a cold bath (*****). So now I’m ready . Did I say the day dawned ? I think I did. Anyway it did. Which at this time of year is sort of amazing. It happens so soon. All the way through Feb you are longing for light but by the 10th March it’s here. Suddenly there’s loads of light. It’s soooo good. Sorry NZ but it’s our turn and us up here have hugely depleted Vit D stores to replenish. Kiwi’s you can have it back in September but just now it’s really welcome and “hands off”. Up at 5am for the trip south I tiptoed around and managed not to awaken dearly beloved. Soon I was off like a (very quiet) shot, the road was reasonable and clear for the most part. The Audi was coping & the Sat Nav was also cooperating. Auspicious or what ?
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| Buy This - Not the Hummus and Falafel Wrap ! |
Here’s a thing not to do pre your half marathon: don’t eat an M&S Hummus and Falafel wrap at 07.18am – unless, of course, you normally do this in training. If you do actually do this in training please please leave a comment. If you have flicked through this blog before you know by now that most people don’t eat nearly enough M&S Lochmuir salmon. I would urge all those tempted by vegetarianism to “laugh in the face the M&S Hummus wrap” and instead yield to inevitable nutritional logic & grab an omega3-packed M&S Lochmuir salmon sandwich instead. I so wish I had. But I was weak and led astray by the wonderful example of my son (a vegetarian now for almost 20 yrs). I doubt even Tom would have recommended the wrap. I could feel that wrap bouncing around every single stride all the way to Clydebank !
Anyway arriving at Clydebank a rapid change in the car into shorts, long sleeve top and a gilet seemed appropriate. Then wriggled into an old track suit and headed off for the bus. As this race is a “point to point” you park your car at the end they deliver you by bus to the race start. I hadn't been on a double decker bus for years – like being back at school again. Just as rattely as I remembered. There's a nice “early morning hub-bub” of semi-whispered conversation as we progress down the motorway to Balloch. Then we're discharged and the ritual queue for the loos commences. It seems there were around 450 persons in the race overall and I think all of them were ahead of me. It seemed to take ages – perhaps the Balloch to Clydebank runners are uber-groomers ? Time to take onboard the pre-race powerbar gel and get the tracksuit deposited in the luggage bus.
The weather had turned a bit sleety and was by now ominiously gray. Ultra gloomy and there's freezing-fog over lurking over Loch Lomond. Not wearing long running-tights now seemed a mistake. None-the-less there's plenty of club-runner types in singlets and shorts so I guess I'm just a wannabe tri-wimp looking for sympathy. I'm keeping my gloves on – wimp or not. Garmin says we've got about 12m to start so that's time to warm up. A 10m jog around the shopping centre and then a group starts to assemble. The group evolves from “throng” through “mob” and then stabilizes as “a crowd”. Nervous chat and folk shuffling on the spot to keep warm. A man appears with a gas-horn & climbs up on a wall to our left, he says somthing none of us can hear and the horn signals our start. The sea of runners ebbs forward and we're off. Clydebank here we come.
It is a privilege to have the freedom and health to train and compete. While I will never win a race I have the opportunity to still improve and to record the odd PB (Personal Best) here and there. Through running and triathlon I get the chance to visit new places and see them from a very special perspective (even from the back of the Dumbarton Little Chef Diner as it turned out). I didn't know much about Clydebank previous to the race but exactly 70 years to the day of this race it suffered greatly in the Second World War.
The River Clyde is justly famed for it's shipbuilding and during the early 1940's it seems Glasgow's heavy industries were making a massive contribution to Britain's total war effort. According to one website “on the nights of 13 and 14 March 1941, German bombers attacked the munitions factories and shipyards of Clydeside. There were 260 bombers on the first night - waves of high-explosive bombs, incendiary bombs and land-mines were dropped over a nine-hour period. Streets were devastated, fires raged, and people were trapped in collapsed buildings. The day following, with rescue work continuing, 200 bombers returned; their bombing raid lasted over seven and a half hours. Over the two days 528 civilians were killed, over 617 people were seriously injured, and several housing schemes were completely wiped out; 48,000 civilians lost their homes, many of them shipyard workers and their families, packed into Clydebank tenements.” According to Wikipedia only 7 houses out of 12,000 remained undamaged. Poignant to think that were we ran was shortly to be it's own version of hell exactly 70 years previous. You can find an eyewitness account of that night from here.
The run route took us first through Balloch then Alexandria, Renton and into Dumbarton. After maybe 2k a group of 4 emerged similar to my pace. A lady in vivid pink, her companion wearing blue and a chap seeminly glued to my shoulder wearing white. Disconcertingly Ms Pink and Mr Blue were able to strike up conversations throughout most of the distance. Their pace seemed good and I latched on. She ran with metronome precision and was very impressive. In fact it turned out Mr Blue was pacing for Ms Pink and stayed faithfully with her until about mile 11 before finishing the race in his own way. I took one gel at the 5 mile water station and that was sufficient. The Hummus and Falafel wrap obviously had a pretty low GI. The route was suburban, unremarkable and very flat. Popping out of a housing estate onto the A82 from behind the Little Chef and from there under the Erskine Bridge and onwards to Clydebank.
There was very little change in the “running order” of athletes - at Mile 10 a runner emerged from nowhere at a super pace – clearly a “negative split” specialist. That was impressive to see. Ms Pink and Mr Blue had serially reeled in runners during miles 6-11 and I felt pretty good pacing with them. But there was virtually no change of overall positions in the last 2 miles. The Garmin stablized at 14.4kph – having been at 14.5kph for well over an hour.
The final 1km is a bit twisty and you don't get an obvious view of the finish – which I was longing for. I tried to inject a few interval-like increases of pace in the last km and this was hurting the guy behind me. He tried several times to make it past but always unsucessfully. Ms Pink was only just ahead as the finish came into view and I had just enough left in the tank to hold off the chap behind and to unchivelrously pip her to the post. I did make a point to congratulate her on her excellent race execution – so I'm not all bad.
Water, medal and the invitable Tunnocks bar are thrust into my hands and I'm wheezing off to the car. The Garmin thought the race was bit long but even so it's a time under 1h.30m – maybe even under 1h.29 – either of which makes it a PB (******). Fantastic. Not quite 3h marathon pace but who really cares ? It was a great race, I was pleased with how I ran it and that I'd had the opportunity to run it. There were some inspiring moments and no-one stole my car - it's all good.
This weekend a lady in NZ had set up a donation site to support the New Zealand Red Cross effort in Christchurch (click here). Her idea was that anyone running anywhere that weekend could demonstrate their support by donating $NZ1 per km. £1 per km bought $NZ46 thanks to the Balloch to Clydebank Half Marathon.
Maybe now it's time to think what we can all do for the people in Japan. If you can run, swim or cycle you can inspire and you can fundraise. The devastation of Clydebank 70 years ago – as local, awful and unthinkable as it was - gives us some understanding of what the people of Japan are now enduring. We are a community of runners, swimmers, cyclists and triathletes and we can reach out and make a difference. This would be a great time to do that. Outstanding UK Irondistance triathlete Rachel Joyce ReTweeted this original link from UK distance runner Liz Yelling : You Can make a difference ... please check this out (click here) and consider taking action. More soon. Take care, stay safe and be inspired.
* OK, not strictly true as my naughty sister Rachel points out – but it was the case for 15yrs so indulge me
** The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Published 1798 in Lyrical Ballads. If you haven't read this then drop this PC and run out and get a copy – it's an astonishing poem.
*** A workout on a treadmill any longer than 40min
**** WGITW = Work Got In The Way
****** Turned out to be 1:28:29
Last weekend was the big mileage week in my marathon plan. The Sunday long-run turned out to be a 37.2k trail and road-run taking just over 3h. I was happy with the run at the time but it took a few days to recover from and the 45 year old knees were complaining - for the 1st time in this whole Paris Marathon campaign. So the warm up was somewhat creaky. You know what ? I don't think I'm eating enough salmon. Anyway it was decision time : tights to stay, long sleeve technical top is selected, light gloves and the Triathlon Scotland buff. The worry was how cold it might be on the bike. The 5 amigo's line up with John looking intense and dangerous, Matt already looks in pain (and we haven't started yet), Tim is zoning in and Stephen is winding us all up. The moment we start, and Cat Morrison disappears from view forever, the sun comes out and the men-in-tights are suddenly way way over-dressed. The crowd of runners surges forward and you get the impression that this race is at some "other level". On the same day Kelownagurl (Kelownagurl Tri's podcast : here) was running a half marathon in British Columbia and she observed that the quality of the field was far superior to her last outing of the same distance last summer. I guess she concluded that only "serious nutcases" would be training through the snows of winter for a March endurance event. I think she got that dead right. These particular "nutcases" were running past me in droves. John was close by, Stephen some way ahead already and Tim & Matt a little behind. About 500m from the start you hit a sharp incline :
