Run no 4: McCain Yorkshire Coast 10k.

This morning Scarborough woke up to beautiful sunshine, with a little mist left on the ground from a cold night. It might even turn out to have been one of the last good days of the Autumn. I checked out of my B&B and ambled down the winding path to the Spa complex, and found I was in a converging crowd of people wearing various amounts of lycra, and more often than not, an athletic club vest or t-shirt. There were many of those people I wrote about earlier - the long-legged beasties with vast lung capacities, the impossibly fast runners. It occurred to me that I might be slightly out of my league - this was a proper race. For runners. Not joggers and plodders like me. Not for people with wobbly bits.

I climbed up the steps from the promenade and checked my bag in at the Ocean Room of the Spa, and got my timing chip to tie onto my left trainer, then went to find the toilet, and found myself at the end of a very long queue. Everyone seemed to be in one club or another. Then I noticed that there were a few more normal looking people who were wearing club tops: people with wobbly bits, and ordinary length legs, and my revelation today has been that ordinary people join athletic clubs. It never occurred to me that improving runners might join for encouragement, development and companionship rather than to always be the winner, and it's given me some food for thought.

On the terrace above the Sun Court, people were doing all sorts of warm ups and team photos, and going through their statistics and what they wanted to achieve from the run. Silly times kept wafting towards me - 45mins, 50. The winners were expected to be in within 31 minutes: impossibly fast. When I was asked, in the application process, what time I'd complete it in, I optimistically put down that I could do it within 65 minutes. My calculations took into account all sorts of variables: the course was supposed to be flat, out and back, and I've been training on a circular and fairly hilly route. My last 10k race time that counts, the Jane Tomlinson in June (because I walked for a substantial amount of the Temple Newsam 10k) was 1.08.57, and I was probably around 14 and a half stone at the time, so I reckoned with a fair road and a following wind, at 12 and a half I might shave a few minutes off. I knew I was being hopeful though. In training for the last 2 weeks, no matter how far the course, I've averaged 1.09 at the 10k mark. Surrounded by the athletic clubs, I thought I would probably be left trailing at the back.

The crowd moved down towards the start line, where a band was playing, and local press were bothering people for quotes. Eventually someone with a microphone addressed us. We had a brief clap in remembrance of Sir Jimmy Savile who died yesterday at the age of 84. He was famous for was his love of running, years of fundraising through marathons, and his love of Scarborough (here is not the place and now not the time to air my true feelings about this man). The warm up was pretty rubbish. The crowd couldn't see the demonstrators legs because she was up on the terrace, and we were on the promenade, so as far as we were concerned she was just waving her arms around and squeaking at us to do things we couldn't quite understand, thanks to terrible amplification. I'd gone through my usual routine on the terrace, and so I just kept topping it up with a few stretches, and most people around me just got on with their own stretches instead of paying attention. When Perri Shakes-Drayton, up and coming Olympics competitor, came to set us off and give us a few motivational words, we couldn't hear her either, and so stood mystified while she giggled down the mike at whatever she had just said. And then, at last, we were off!

As always there was a crunch and a hustle to get to the start line after the timer had started, and it took a minute or two to get on to the official course. Crossing under the start banner, I pressed go on the stopwatch on my trusty old phone (my fancy new one has a stopwatch function but it's not as good). We could still hear the band up to about 1500m out, then there was an almighty racket which turned out to be 3 blokes in halloween costumes, with a drum, a guitar and a theramin. I like theramins, they're cool, like stetsons and bow-ties, but for all that's good in the world, if you're going to get one, and play with it in front of other people, then PLEASE learn how to use it! Some members of the Beach Boys were turning in their graves. I think the pack speeded up at this point, maybe that was the idea?

I don't recall much as we continued out along Marine Parade, through the crowds of morning seaside tourists, out along the sandy promenade, where the team of guys dressed as firefighters overtook me, until the pace car came into view coming in the opposite direction. It was displaying a sign with 20minutes and a few seconds in lights, and the first few runners, all genetically more similar to giraffes than humans, came pounding after it. There was swearing and disbelief at first, between me and the lass I was running next to, then we yelled encouragement at them. We chatted for a bit, and then I realised that I was finding it difficult to hold a conversation, and that I was running faster than I would normally, so I slowed my pace down for a bit. The sun was hot, it was later than I normally run, I was hungry, my team night out with work on Friday was still lurking, I'd not slept as well as I should... there are any number of reasons why I wasn't feeling as comfortable as I usually would at around the 3-4k mark, and I began to worry about making it all the way round.

I grabbed water from the table at the 4k mark at Peasholme Park, and ran through the grounds, and then back out onto the promenade, running parallel to the beach until a hairpin bend doubled us back on ourselves. Mentally, now I was on the way home, and I felt a little better. I could also see that although it had felt like it, not everyone had overtaken me; a few of the people I'd overtaken were quite a fair distance behind me. I'd only seen one or two other people in Macmillan t-shirts, and when I saw a young lad bringing up the rear of the pack (although by far not the last in the field) wearing his, I yelled "Come on Macmillan!" at him, remembering how much that had spurred me on in June, and his tired red face broke into a grateful smile. I hitched my pace to match that of an older woman with white hair next to me, and we were level for most of the beachfront, with me eventually breaking ahead of her as we came back into the harbour front. Although that felt good, I wondered if I could keep it up. Clusters of people were still watching and clapping on the pavements, but a few people ahead of me had slowed to a walk, but seeing them giving up opened the way for me to question my own motivation. I began reasoning with myself about how I should listen to my body, and that if I really did need to walk, then that's what I should do. However, these last few months, I've learned to engage my inner voices in a discussion, and reason back that I've done this distance loads, and that I wasn't really tired, and that I've had really long runs where I've been sure I wasn't going to make it from the minute I've got out of the door. Usually the run finishes before the argument does.

Just as this was happening, the pavement took a sudden but mild incline and a bend, and the slight change was coupled with the 7k marker. For some reason it hit me really hard and I noticed I had a stitch, and that my right foot was feeling too tight again. My head went down and I heard my inner voice ask for help. I needed something to kick me. Despite the fact that I could now see the Spa again, out around the curve of the bay, I was flagging. Exactly at this point, a woman who had been running behind me came alongside, and then overtook me. As she came in front of me, I noticed her top, a pale salmon pink long-sleeved cotton thing. With a sweat mark on the back. And it was in the shape of a perfect heart.

"Thank you Sadie!" I thought, and grinned, picking my knees and feet up, finding a little more energy from somewhere. I realised how far I've come this year, and why. Too far to give up.

The theramin group were still making me wonder why they were bothering, and as they faded out behind me, I noticed that the band at the Spa were now mangling one of my favourite songs, New England (Kirsty MacColl was turning in her grave too), and I started singing it under my breath. The lady with the white hair, who I thought I'd left behind, suddenly passed me and settled about 30 seconds in front of me, and we were onto the last 1000m. More people were gathered towards the finish line. I heard the cheers first, and felt my spirits rise and my pace pick up before I noticed that the clock said 1.05... and that that's the fastest 10k I've ever done. At the same time, I realised that I crossed the line a while after the official start: I would actually be faster than 1.05...! Some kids had their hands out to catch hi-5s off the runners, and I let myself take 4 of them, grinning, knowing I was on for my own little record.

I stopped the stopwatch in my pocket to confirm it - 1.04.49. I got a text message from my chip time a few minutes later that confirmed it as 1.04.48. My personal best 10k time. I felt fantastic, and narrowly avoided tears by immediately joining the queue for bananas and race t-shirts.

Immediately in front of me when I got there was the lady with the heart on her back, although it had changed shape by now. I told her about it, and we got talking about races and running as we caught our breath. I went to pick my bag up and get changed out of my sweaty stuff, and the white haired lady turned up next to me. She was talking with a couple of her friends, an older man and his wife. I caught her attention and told her she was amazing, the way she'd just put that spurt on. She said how hard she'd found it, but said she'd enjoyed it, and they told me how old they were: the man was 76, and had come in at 57mins, and she was 69. I want to be racing in those times when I am their age.

As I left the Spa to walk up the hill towards town for my bus home, I saw that the last runner pace bikes were coming in, and noticed the band were now putting undue pressure on "It's got to be Perfect" (it wasn't). The clock by now was counting for the family fun run that had started on the same route 10 mins ago, so I checked the time - 11.38. The last runner was an overweight but utterly determined woman, running painfully in. As she came down the last few metres, the crowd was going crazy, clapping and cheering her on. I hope she revelled in every second of it, because everyone seemed so proud of her, and for her. 1hr and 38mins. She was a purple faced struggler, as my Dad would've said, but she bloody well did it.

I left Scarborough on the bus, with a massive proud grin on my face, and settled down to demolishing the bananas and the veggy sausage sarnie I had talked my lovely host, Derek, at The Esplanade Gardens Hotel into packing up for me. He'd seemed bewildered when I told him I was running in the race, and that I didn't generally eat before a run so wouldn't be partaking of my breakfast with the other guests, but did me the honour of building me a butty anyway. I was delighted to find he'd slipped a couple of sachets of brown sauce in there too, lovely man! I nodded off a little on the bus, and was pretty much fully recovered when I got off in Leeds.

So, that only leaves the Abbey Dash on the 20th November to complete this year's 5 Race challenge, and I'm already wondering if I can beat my personal best time?

Dad's response to my text message about my time was "This is getting serious!"

I think it might be!

New Trainers!

On Sunday, when I'd sort of calmed down a bit from my triumphant and smug mood after my Big Long Run (8.3 miles) on Saturday, it finally occurred to me that I should go do something about my trainers.

I was in Harrogate to see Jem, and she was ready to test out her injured knee with a gentle walk, so we went for a wander around the town centre. After a surprising visit to the fantastic library, where Jem ended up getting a henna pattern on her hand to celebrate Diwali, we made our way to the shops, and found ourselves actually passing our favourite cookware shop with only a brief but longing glance at the mini Le Creuset dishes in the window. These places sell the paraphernalia that cookware fetishists like us crave (she's worse than me - she uses every utensil within reach even if she's making a bacon buttie - egg whisk, garlic press, at least 2 spatulas and a spud masher...), and even if we weren't buying, we would go for a quick perv, focussing on specialist equipment and fantasising about making rude, fabulous tasty stuff. We still both love cooking, but at least we're running off the results these days, so we hurried past and went straight to Up & Running.

I finally got my gait analysed, and in the process found that I am completely unable to run on a treadmill. Out there on the early morning roads, after a few miles I might be making weird noises and doing something that barely resembles running, but on a treadmill, I run like Phoebe, feet out to the sides, arms doing flapping movements to try and balance. How this could lead to an accurate view of my gait, I was very unsure, but apparently it's not where your feet go on the way down that matters, it's how they hit the ground, and it turns out I am a neutral runner. The very helpful assistant made recommendations for the type of support I might need for my heel pain, and listened to me telling him all about my Big Long Run the day before and how I'd practically killed my NB trainers since starting to run in them in February, having shrunk from 15stone to 12and a half. He looked at them and agreed they're dead. Then he brought me 3 pairs of suitable trainers and let me try them on. And these are the ones I chose:

Today I went out for the first time in my new trainers to get them warmed up for Sunday's 10k race in Scarborough . I only intended to do 10k, but once I had set off, I found it was such a gorgeous, cold and bright Autumn morning that I just wanted to keep going. Along the canal, despite feeling fine and enjoying the run, I found myself wishing that instead of running, that I'd gone up there with my camera to capture the golden misty light, the lances of sun striking into the mist through the orange leaves, the ducks and moorhens splashing in the misty patches on the water. There are some occasions when the 2 things I love so much cross over, and unfortunately they're incompatible. You can't take photos like that whilst actually running, and I had to remind myself that sights like that are also a reason why I love running, especially in the mornings. A good run or walk always throws up something beautiful and surprising. Yesterday, I saw a bloke carrying what I thought was his lunch in a bread bag, but I was proved wrong when he dipped into the bag and threw the contents in handfuls to the greedy ducks at Lock 6. Something about it made me smile, I'm not the only one who still loves to feed the ducks.

Just before the Kirkstall Marina, I asked myself what I wanted to do. Was I going to run straight down to Lock 1 at the canal basin, which would have been about 6.5miles, possibly run back up as far as I could? Was I going to run to the viaduct and run back up Kirkstall Road and get a bit of route practice for the Abbey Dash? What I heard coming out of my mouth as a reply (yes, I do talk out loud to myself when I'm running and there's no-one there to hear) was "I'm going to do what I did on Saturday," and that was my answer.

As I came toiling over the peak of the hill where Kirkstall Lane turns onto Morris Lane, a man getting out of a van saw me and asked if it was really worth it? I answered "2 stone off says it is!" and then I spent the remaining 30 minutes of the run kicking myself that I'd got my weight-loss wrong. It's 2 and a half stone at the moment, hopefully 3 by the end of November. Probably because I was thinking so much about this, I barely noticed the rest of the run, which means it was much easier than Saturday. I even made it back to the garden wall 7 seconds faster than last time.

My feet feel great, the trainers were really comfy and I can appreciate the difference good cushioning makes. I'm now set for the final 2 10ks of my 5 race challenge, and should be ok to get through the first few runs of the 200 Mile Macmillan Madness next year.

The longest I have run... yet! Prepare for 2012!

#Rocky Theme Tune#

8.3 miles. 93mins, 32 secs. Average 5.38mph

Yes. I. Did.

I feel AWESOME!

And now I know I can do that, I'm well up for getting to 10miles by the end of November, weather and attacks of the snot lurgy permitting.

And that would be a cracking end to a year in which my life has changed completely. At the end of my run, as I speed-staggered back to my garden wall, grinning massively, my neighbours were out on the back street. I had to go pull the bins back in from the road, and as I did so dripping with sweat and probably steaming gently, my 2-doors-down neighbour asked if it was really worth all that extra effort.

"Two and a half stone off since February says it is," I said. When she congratulated me and asked how I'd done it, I went on briefly to tell her about my walking, as she said she and her daughter see me setting off every morning, and I told her how losing the weight, and the act of running, have made every aspect of my life better. I explained about my motivation and the fundraising for Macmillan and other cancer charities. As it happens, her Dad is ill and being treated for cancer right now, and she's receiving loads of great advice and friendly help from Macmillan, and her Dad is finding their services invaluable.

It's everywhere. You really don't have to look far to find someone who is dealing with cancer, or relatives who are helping them fight and worrying every day and night. The work Cancer Research UK does is vital, and the Race for Life series is a brilliant opportunity for people to say thank you, and do something for themselves and their loved ones to help battle the illness. Macmillan pick up where the scientists leave off - they are there for the emotional and practical side, providing the essential support that people need to get from one day to the next to get through the illness, or deal with the grief.

This year, I set myself the goal of running 5 races. 5 is loads to a 15stone, 35 year old woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders. 5 is a lot, especially to someone who used to prefer to do absolutely nothing at any given opportunity rather than exert myself. 5 seemed like a long shot to that person I was in February. Behind all that was also the knowledge that this time I wanted to keep up the running for as long as I could whilst the weather was good. This time I wanted to make running a permanent part of my life, not just something that drops in every few years, stays for a few months until I've done a quick fun-run, then drops away leaving only a medal or t-shirt behind, as the pounds start to creep back on.

The result is that I'm now planning the maddest, most exciting challenge for 2012. Jem, a fresh convert to running, who has sustained a really cruel and nasty injury just as she was realising that the bug had not just bitten, but completely savaged her, came up with a wild and dangerous idea for her to run 100miles of races next year, when her knee heals. My honest first reaction was "If she can, I can," and so I said I'd do it with her.

In the next few weeks we'll be planning 5 and 10k runs all over the country between February and the end of November 2012. We'll each complete 100 official miles of races, some together, some separately. Jem will be starting from zero again, as an absolute beginner, as she was only a few weeks into the 0-5k plan before falling and injuring the bursar pad under her left knee. It's incredibly painful and virtually invisible, unless you count the horrible yellow colour all around it even now, 4 weeks on. I will hopefully be starting training again from 5k after a 2month break. We'll each start with the early 5k runs, and then get stuck into the 10ks and longer until we reach a total of 100miles each. There'll be plenty of geeky stats and a little competition between us: fastest average running speed over the year; most improved; furthest travelled to get to the runs, anything that can be logged and compared will be food for the competition. And, as a great big massive ending, we're trying to get ourselves into a half Marathon by the end of the season.

We're having an initial look at what we might do tonight, and Jem's setting up a dedicated blog for the challenge, so I'll publish more details when they're available. It's all ridiculously exciting.

I can already see where this might take me. I'm beginning to think 2013 might be my marathon year.

Goodbye to old Running Partners.

Last weekend, I finally had to say goodbye to the trainers that did so much to get me to where I am today. It wouldn't be right not to say a few words about them, and give a dignified send off to two old friends.

In 2006, when I had got to 13.5 stone and was disgusted with myself, I purchased a pair of trainers, as a desperate act. I'd just got out of a pretty nasty relationship and found myself in a precarious state of mental health, and so I threw myself into training, knowing that if I recovered my fitness, I might find a little bit more sanity along the way.



Note the holes, the worn down heels and gripless toes, the stretched and savaged air pads. This is a pair of trainers that worked hard.

These baby-blue Nike -Bowerman Series Air Pegasus trainers cost me £45 (I think) and they have served me ridiculously well. I started running again from scratch in February 2006, downloaded the Up&Running 0-5k plan, and ran my first 5k Race for Life at Skipton in the May, and another in London in June that year. I'd been out for a run in these on the day I was knocked off my bike and broke my collarbone (November 16th 2006) - I may even have been wearing them at the time. They sat in the wardrobe for a few months until I was able to get out again, and then they got me through another spring and summer of training and up to my first 10k at Harewood House on 16th September 2007.

All over Morley, Churwell, then Meanwood and as far out as Alwoodley, together we laid down some serious footprints. These were the trainers I conquered Dunny Hill in, the achievement I class as my official qualification as a Runner. Until I had battled the same monster hill as my Dad, and won, I was just playing at it.

This year, having purchased a pair of cheap New Balances in the sale, just to get back into running with, I demoted them, and they emerged from under the stairs to become my main vehicle for getting to work in: these helped me walk 40miles a week on average until I recognised that there was more of my socks showing through the mesh than was respectable.

They have been forlornly sitting by the back door for weeks, as if knowing it would only be a matter of time before I plucked up the compassion to do the decent thing and move them the final 5metres into the black bin. I did that last Saturday morning. But, in order to mark their passing, I took a photo.

Farewell then, old friends. We came a long way together.

It won't be too long until the NB's have to go the same way. They're coping very well indeed to say that they've now walked approximately 500miles AND they have been running with me since I started this year. I plan to invest in some properly measured and supportive trainers to get me through the next few months because I have a very exciting new running project on the cards for next year - more of which in the next post.

ONE MORE THING...

Finally! I've found the missing race. There's nothing like leaving it late! Tonight I've signed up to run the McCain Yorkshire Coast 10k Road Race next Sunday in Scarborough. Whoohoo! 5 races.

And that was far too easy..... watch this space for next year's big challenge.