Race Report: Edinburgh Marathon

Posted on December 29, 2015 by James Clay

(for various reasons several of my biggest achievements this year went unblogged. With a few days left in 2015 it’s time to put that right, so here’s a look back at something amazing…)

I’m not certain when my fixation with running Edinburgh Marathon began, but it almost definitely coincided with seeing the course profile. Any race that ends at a height 30 metres below where it starts must be entirely downhill, that’s just logic that is…well, my logic at least.

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Having finally coerced a friend in to believing marathons where a good way to spend a Sunday a plan was made, accommodation booked, road trip playlist curated and we were off. (Obviously there was also 16 weeks of blood, sweat and tears training building up to it, but you can read about the highlights of that here, here and here)

IMAG3629Once in Edinburgh it turned out our cheap twin room at the youth hostel was seconds from the start line, my obsessive planning had paid off! With a day to waste in Edinburgh we set about walking more miles than is probably sensible, including a quick visit to the expo (don’t bother) and a wistful admiration of Arthur’s Seat, the hill that overlooks the city. Glad we didn’t attempt the climb before the marathon but disappointed we didn’t make it up there at all.

Saturday evening and it was pre-race burgers washed down with pint after pint of lime & soda, one day I’ll take race prep seriously, today was not that day. An early night back at the hostel, a crap movie on the tiny telly and one more sleep before a 26.2 mile assault on the streets of Edinburgh…

The hostel kitchen was full of people in lycra making porridge (and a very confused foreign family doing a fry up), the tension palpable, the microwave in high demand. Thanks to our proximity to the start and reconnaissance the previous day  there was the minimum of stress as we wandered to the start line and met up with friends also going for a long jog (well, friend, the others were just there for the gin and to offer moral support). It was at this point we went our separate ways as I headed to the “not quite a fun runner but going to be out there a while” pen whilst the others headed for the “allusions of being a racing snake” start.

I don’t remember much about the start or first few miles of the race. It went off smoothly enough and the downhill start really helped set the tone and get the legs turning over. I’d set my watch to lead me to sub 5 hours, a generous time given the performances in training but still a PB and I know how easily the wheels can fall off on these long runs. I was comfortably getting ahead of target and eating up the miles, really enjoying the atmosphere and course. Conditions were near perfect and as we got to the coast around Musselburgh the expected coastal winds failed to appear. Support was sparse but enthusiastic, at least in the middle section of the race, but the atmosphere among runners carried you along. There were several contraflow sections and seeing the faster runners coming back the other way was a welcome distraction, for some reason I always run better on an out-and-back section where I can support others.

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Then catastrophe. At exactly halfway and for no conceivable reason my Garmin just gave up measuring distance. I knew I was ahead of pace, but not by how much, and for the last 13 miles I had no idea how fast I was moving or whether I was gaining or losing time. In some ways this helped as the task of attempting complicated mathematics at mile markers stopped me thinking about the running. What didn’t stop though was my vocal and quite sweary tirade of abuse aimed at Garmin, satellites, watches, buttons, orange things and even my own wrist at one point. I was not a happy jogger.

We made the turn at mile 18 and it turned out the feared coastal winds had actually been there the whole time, just at our backs. This meant the final 8 miles was heading in to it, which was nice. After a few minutes of swearing at weather for a change I got my head down and dug in. Through miles 20 and 21 and I was still feeling surprisingly strong. I hadn’t slowed to a walk or shuffle even momentarily by this point, and now entertained thoughts of actually running the entire marathon. The thought of working harder somehow gave me a boost and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Back in to the crowd-lined streets and the final few miles fell away beneath my feet. It wasn’t meant to be like this; I’d trained to survive, not thrive. There was none of the pain or doubt that I expected, which was such a feature of previous marathons, just an overwhelming belief that I was going to run over the finish line in a time I could really be proud of.

Shit watch being shit with a fantastic time being fantastic.

Shit watch being shit with a fantastic time being fantastic.

4 hours and 7 minutes after crossing the start line 26.2 miles ago I sprinted over the finish. As is my way with marathons, a triumphant roar was issued but there was none of the tears of London or relief of Bournemouth. My main emotion was confusion at how I could possibly have gone so quick, so comfortably and finish so strong…for a few moments I was convinced there’d been a mistake and I hadn’t actually run the whole course at all!

Before long I was reunited with friends, exchanging hi-5s and tales of the road, before a walk to the buses laid on to transport us back in to town. As we made our way from the hubbub of the finish, cheering those in the last mile of their race, I was stunned at just how capable I felt of walking, so there you have it folks, apparently training really does help!

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I really enjoyed Edinburgh, and in the right circumstances I’d be tempted to go back and have another go, but with so many other marathons out there that’s unlikely. If it is true though that it is the fastest course in the UK then I’ve got some real work to do if I’m ever going to go sub 4 somewhere else!

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Southwark parkrun #120

Posted on December 22, 2015 by James Clay

It’s that time of the year once more when I pop to London for a day of overindulging in food, Christmas lights and the company of friends. As is now my way, this involved a 4am alarm call to get the coach to London in plenty of time to make a parkrun before the feasting and frivolity began.

This trip I chose Southwark parkrun, having already ticked off Fulham Palace, Mile End and Burgess. The decision was made easier by the location (no more than 12 minutes from Victoria!) and the willingness of Seven Islands Leisure Centre to let me use their facilities including stashing my kit in a locker and getting a post run shower…thanks!

The Southwark parkrun venue was really easy to find, but as with all London parkruns I’ve attended so far there was no one to be seen before 8.30am. I’m not sure what we’re getting so wrong in Cheltenham that the core volunteers need to get on site for 8am, but I’m eager to learn from our friends in the capital and earn us another half an hour in bed! Once people started to arrive though I received the perfect welcome, as I have at every parkrun I’ve toured at. Laurent the Run Director was particularly charming and made me feel right at home instantly. There was plenty of fancy dress on show for the last run of the year; reindeer, santa, a Christmas tree and tinsel galore! The run briefing was quick and efficient, and while I’m never going to be leading a parkrun and in danger of getting lost it’s always nice to hear the course explained clearly! A few announcements for milestone runs, an invitation to coffee afterwards and we were off!

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The run is on wide tarmac paths, pancake flat but with enough corners to keep it interesting, running past park buildings, ponds and a running track (under repair, which is great to see as there is a lack of decent track facilities in this country). There is even a short out-and-back section, and I’m a big fan of out-and-back sections. It’s nice to be able to exchange a smile or even a grimace with fellow parkrunners as they go the other way. For the record, Southwark, all smiles!

Capture

A 3 lap course but it never got boring, helped by friendly and encouraging marshals and some great support as we passed the line each time. I wasn’t aiming for anything more than a finish but found myself picking off a few people, albeit slowly. It’s a good course for chasing down the people ahead of you if you’re the competitive sort. When I did make it to the finish (in a shade under 27 minutes) there was a great reception from quicker runners who’d gathered around the finish funnel to see everyone home. Southwark is everything a parkrun should be, and really has the parkrun community vibe that makes touring so much fun.

Just time for a quick photo with Laurent before I headed back to the leisure centre for a shower. Sadly I couldn’t hang about for a coffee but I really wanted to, and Southwark is definitely a parkrun I’d consider returning to next time I’m in town, especially if I had a little longer to enjoy it. Thanks for having me.

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First Finishers:

Male – Christopher HOLDSWORTH – SM20-24 – Clayton-le-Moors Harriers – 16:04

Female – Kate RICHARDS – SW25-29 – 21:50

123 runners with 7 first-timers and 12 more new to Southwark with 7 new PBs.

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Baby’s Got Back

Posted on November 16, 2015 by James Clay

You probably don’t know what your quadratus lumborum is, and you’ll be much happier if that remains the case.

Lower back pain is the largest cause of work related absence in the industrialised world. 80% of people in the UK will complain of back pain at some time, with 49% of the population reporting pain lasting 24 hours or more.(source) 5 weeks ago, I became a part of those statistics.

There’s still some debate about exactly what happened, but what I do know is that I did a seated box jump in the gym 35 days ago and that was the last proper exercise I did. The pain was instant, and we finished the session with some gentle mobility work before I went home for an early night with a hot water bottle, expecting to wake up fixed. I woke up paralysed. For two days it was taking me 30 minutes to get out of bed and in to the kitchen to get food. I was moving from mattress to front room floor, where I’d lie for as long as I could before having to crawl back to bed. It was only on the third day I was mobile enough to get downstairs to the drugs waiting in my letterbox which thankfully got me back to work a few days later. Since then I’ve been stretching and rolling when the pain allows and in the last ten days I’ve managed a couple of short runs, but paid for it with soreness the following day.

The diagnosis is blurred. Initially it was suggested my QL (quadratus lumborum muscle) had gone in to spasm. This is the muscle that runs down the lower spine, connected from the lowest rib to the pelvis and if it spasms then everything is going to be painful! My physio suggested however that it may be a slipped disc, or more accurately a lumbar disc herniation. Having done lots of reading I’m convinced it could have been either…but also could very conceivably have been both!

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One thing that everyone agreed on though is that a key cause of whatever went wrong is the fact that my job has become increasingly sedentary, spending more and more time sat at my desk and not moving for hours on end. The same was true at home, although I was running and training lots as soon as the trainers were off I would be sat again, ending the evening with an hour or two on the sofa.

So I’m going to do a post in the next few days about how to minimise the damage you’re doing if, like me, you have an office job. I’d love your input, if you’ve had back issues or have any advice on how to get moving in the work place let me know.

 

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3 Reasons Why Running Will Never Replace Rugby

Posted on September 18, 2015 by James Clay

Today begins the Rugby World Cup, right here in England’s green and pleasant land. When the last World Cup in England kicked off I had only just discovered rugby, I was learning the rules at school and working out how to play the game my way. I can’t remember, but I’m reasonably confident that even then I was in love with the game, a love that has endured and saw me playing for 20 years and enjoying every minute.

Since being forced to leave the game I have discovered running, and now I love that almost as much. But running will never, ever replace rugby in my heart and here’s three reasons why…

Teamwork.

I’m a member of a running club with over 450 registered athletes, that’s huge! I know a lot of them and count many as friends, they are a wonderfully supportive bunch and I adore them. The turn out of spectators at every race is incredible, the atmosphere at training is fantastic and as a club we have turned in a fair few podium worthy team performances this year. But…

Nothing will ever come close to the team ethic of putting your body on the line for your guys. Not just once, but repeatedly over the course of 80 minutes, you smash yourself in to the opposition for the sake of your team mates. You leave the field battered, bruised and bloodied and you’ve done it for your club…and I promise you it hurts more than a marathon ever will! You also entrust your safety to the guys around you, especially where I used to play in the front row. If those 7 guys you packed down with didn’t do their job and put it all in to every set piece you could end up face down in the dirt and potentially not getting up again. That level of belief in your team mates, that bond and closeness, is something that running will never replicate no matter how hard your training partner pushes you or club cheers you on. If you watch the games in the next few weeks just see how much effort is put in by guys who never touch the ball or score the points, that’s teamwork.

Total trust allows total commitment.

Total trust allows total commitment. (Yep, that’s me in the front row)

Physicality

Running keeps me fit, arguably fitter than I ever was on the rugby field, and although I’ve had a few injuries there’s so far no scars I can attribute to going for a jog. Many would see that as a good thing, but…

Playing rugby demands absolute commitment to training, every time you hit the gym or pitch. Whereas running asks you to be fit at doing the same thing for a long time rugby is constantly asking different questions of your body. In the space of 60 seconds you can be scrummaging, tackling, mauling and then lifting in the line out, running between each breakdown. There are no easy games in rugby, you can’t choose which days to try for a PB and when to ease off and enjoy the occasion, you have to be at your best, strongest, fastest, fittest and most brutal every time you cross the whitewash. The result of which is an intensity and diversity in training that not only makes you good, but makes you look good to! As for scars, too many to count but every one was hard earned and none of them forced me off the field. I’ve seen people walk off a race course because things weren’t going their way and stay on a rugby pitch after having a dislocated shoulder popped back in. I know which I’d prefer to be remembered for.

Never stronger, I wish I could stay this shape and run marathons!

Never stronger, I wish I could stay this shape and run marathons!

Social

We often stop for a lime and soda after training runs on a Wednesday, and the club does love a buffet. I even try and organise a Sunday lunch for after big races, but…

Whoever decided to put all races on a Sunday morning and keep us out of the pub on Saturday needs a stern talking too! That aside, one of the beauties of rugby is that for 80 minutes you go to war, intent on causing as much damage as possible to the 15 men in front of you and it gets heated. Then, the final whistle blows and suddenly you’re walking off the pitch with 15 guys you have the utmost respect for and it’s all handshakes, hugs and new friendships and what follows is normally beer, lots of it! It’s as much a part of the game as the scrum or drop goal; the post match meal with the opposition, the jugs of beer for the captain and then all gathering for Final Score or, joy of joys, an international game on the clubhouse TV. It goes beyond that as well, I remember exactly where I was for Golden Saturday during the Olympics, and it wasn’t on a sofa with 8 mates all wearing the badge and cheering like I will be tonight! Rugby brings us together in the pub, at friend’s homes and especially on the terraces of The Shed at Kingsholm in a way running never will. I still see people I played against and stop for a chat now, I’ve never had someone who also ran a race stop me in the street!

End of season minibus away day. League promotion and silly hats, I miss those days!

End of season minibus away day. League promotion and silly hats, I miss those days!

So there you have it. I love running, but rugby is a part of who I am, and I can’t wait to support my country for the next few weeks. Where will you be watching the games?

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The Breakup

Posted on September 15, 2015 by James Clay

Falling out of love with running can be the most heart wrenching breakup you’ll ever experience.

Everything is fine, it has been for ages, then almost imperceptibly the cracks start to appear. They start small, little annoyances that you can excuse because the whole is so much better than that one run you didn’t enjoy quite as much as usual. But soon the little things start to add up, it gets longer between good runs and easier to turn your back on them completely.

Then one day, without you knowing how it’s come to this, you just don’t want to spend any time in your trainers.

And it’s sad.

Because you miss it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to fix. You know it’s good for you, that if you just reached out to your lycra maybe you could put all this right…

…but it doesn’t happen, because the pain of not running seems less than the pain of risking it all, putting yourself out there and getting hurt. What if you give it a go and don’t love it? Could you ever rescue yourself and have another go?

So suddenly you’re without your beloved, that thing that makes you happy and keeps you going; you’ve lost a part of yourself in the process as well, you’re without that love that has defined you for so long. So you decide to force yourself back in the game, you arrange a date or two…or in my case three, half marathon dates.

And now comes the real heartache, because you’ve given yourself that glimmer of hope, a reminder of how good it can be when you’re relationship is perfect – but the reality is you still don’t love it. You go through the motions when it’s unavoidable, and sometimes it’s all over too quick and sometimes it drags on for ages, but a run rarely leaves you satisfied like it did before and it leaves you empty and dejected, especially the knowledge that you’ll have to do it again soon.

So with less than two weeks until Cheltenham Half, three until Cardiff and Stroud not long after that I need to find a way to inject the spark back in to my relationship with running.

All suggestions welcome…

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