A step back in time

In the good old days, summer lasted from May to September with endless hot, sunny days; village greens sporting cricketers clad in all white gently playing forward defensive shots for hours on end; village fêtes with maypoles, strawberries and cream and WI home made cakes, and running races always starting at 3pm on Saturday afternoons. Well, on Saturday I was able to witness three of these things - cricket being the exception as it has changed somewhat; the commentators were bemoaning the WI run rate falling below nine an over for example, what on earth would Geoff Boycott make of that?
The Broad Town 5 is a lovely little race and has been going 26 years. Start & finish is in a tiny school playing field where the annual fête attracts a lot of interest for what is only a small village (not sure why it's called a town). We parked in an adjoining field where the grass grew higher than my little MG, which as a consequence was camouflaged and thus difficult to find after the race. I was surprised to find four female teammates at the race, mother & daughter Thomas plus itinerant travellers "if there is an obscure race we'll find it" Jane Stevens & Christina See. In fact the overall turnout was excellent with over 200 finishers swelling the coffers of whatever school fund / good cause the fête was raising money for.
I enjoyed most of the race if only for the fact that I was leading for 3½ miles - it's a long time since I've been that close to the lead vehicle. Aim was for a good tempo run to supplement my current heavy marathon training so I wanted to ensure a good pace. By two miles (10:35) I only had Gary O'Brien for company and he allowed me to do all the work which I didn't mind. I maintained a good pace and felt strong despite the hot conditions (3m in 15:59) ... until the big hill just before four miles. In the foothills of this mountain (which ultimately led onto the Ridgeway way above us, although we turned off before reaching the top), O'Brien eased alongside me and then as it became steeper he edged ahead. I was a beaten man and fell away like a Rich Tea biscuit in a freshly made cup of tea. I "ran" the fourth mile in 5:51 before thankfully regaining some composure on the flat and ultimately downhill finish with a final 5:35 and an excellent second overall which Claudie missed as she was watching the dog show!
My day was made when I met up with a couple of acquaintances from many, many years ago, Dennis Williams & Ian Isherwood from Hercules Wimbledon running club. They'd done this race once a long time ago and fancied a weekend away with a Saturday afternoon race, no doubt to be followed by a few glasses in a local hostelry. We spent quite some time reminiscing about old times and mutual friends. Great fun.
A couple of drinks Saturday evening then a long run (2h 15m) Sunday morning completed a really good old fashioned running weekend.

PS For ease of reference, the first WI referred to in the narrative is Womens Institute, the second West Indies. Hope that sorts out any confusion.

Contrasting 10km races

I've attended two 10km races in the last two days, one as a competitor and one as a marshal. The contrasts between the two were dramatic.

The Fairford Festival 10km, as the name implies, is run as part of a weekend of festivities in the town where I work. Both the festival and the race, plus associated 3km fun run, have been going for many years and have been highly successful. Unfortunately this year things changed. The organisers manifestly failed to market the race with no flyers distributed at other local races or to nearby clubs. As a consequence the race almost didn't go ahead because of lack of entries - this at a time when most races close entries early and have to turn people away. Of course this meant that Cirencester were able to clean up, we managed five of the top eight places and the only reason we didn't have the race winner was because Chris overslept, see his Blog for more! Jon Young's photo shows the beeming winning team of Adrian Williams, Chris Illman & me with the delightful Sharron Davies.

The next evening Cirencester promoted the Westonbirt Arboretum 10km, the course threading its way through the winding footpaths of this beautiful area near Tetbury & Highgrove. Entries closed weeks ago at 750 and organiser Dave Edelsten could easily have accepted double that number. As ever with Dave's organisation, everything went very smoothly; it was a spectacular sight seeing such large numbers spread throughout the grounds of the Arboretum. With a sapling tree for each finisher there was also a bit of novelty for all as well.

The Westonbirt results have been published this morning, just a few hours after the race finished. The Fairford results have also been published today but because the second finisher's time was not recorded all results are incorrect! Apparently the fun run results are even worse. If people pay out £8-10 for a 10km race they expect decent organisation. At Westonbirt they got it, at Fairford they didn't.

The longest run

Had planned to run the White Horse 5 on bank holiday Monday but the 11:30am start put me off as it impinged on good eating / drinking time in the midst of a heavy social weekend. It was partly coincidence and partly planned that so much social stuff happened all at once - just like the old 93 bus, you wait ages for one to come along then three come together.

So instead of dodging gypsies & collecting chocolate biscuits at Gloucester, it was off to the Thames Head for lunch with Claudie, my sister & mum. For any locals interested, the food at the TH is now superb. This followed dinner at Jesse Smiths in town on Saturday night and lunch in our garden on a glorious summer Sunday with friends from London.

Saturday's dinner, again high quality, was with Cathie & Dave who, remarkably, got married on the same day as us. We didn't know them then but they were only a few miles away: we married in Morden, south London and they tied the knot in Horsham, Sussex. Unfortunately, being relatively close meant we had the same weather ... it bucketed down all day, absolutely incessant it was. They say that's a good sign and I guess it was because all this waffle is leading to the fact that we celebrated our 25th anniversary on Tuesday! Champagne at home finished off our few sociable days perfectly. Shame Natalie couldn't join us but the poor girl is in the midst of her finals at Exeter Uni.

Of course I trained on our wedding day - my best man was a 30.17 10k runner so it wasn't a gentle plod - and I managed to get out twice on our anniversary. Not sure how many more years I'll be strapping on the trainers rather than slippers but I'll keep it going for as long as I can. As I've said before it's a lifestyle thing.

Thanks Claudie, you're a star for putting up with me all these years!

Relaxing by the Thames

Thought I'd crucify my legs further with another half marathon back at my old stomping ground. The Richmond Half, organised by Ranelagh Harriers, takes in some wonderful settings and, as a consequence is very popular despite an 8.30am start. Living 100 miles away this meant Claudie & I staying overnight with old friends and that meant eating & drinking well. That's my first excuse.
The race started right outside the Ranelagh clubhouse, went over Richmond Bridge, then to Twickenham, Kingston and the magnificent Hampton Court, before returning along the (generally) tarmac towpath, over Kingston Bridge and back to Richmond. It was a beautiful warm, sunny day. My race was nondescript as I was isolated for nearly the whole race, just picking off a few fast starters, before I got into a nice little trio after 8 miles and we picked up the pace. My marathon, previous night's antics and continued health problems all kicked in over the last couple of miles and I was pretty weary by the end. David Rowe's picture shows race winner, Peter Tucker, bounding along. Great to meet up with old friends of course, including two we hadn't seen for a few years: Grenville Tuck and Ned Sullivan. Makes it all worthwhile.
During the previous evening and after the race, swopped lots of texts with my buddy from Rome, Gavin Jones, who decided to run the Prague Marathon. He'd run Rome in 2.48 in March, was aghast to hear that I'd run 2.47 in Scotland, so ran Prague at short notice ... in 2.46! He is a happy man but I shall return and sooner than most expect ...

London revisited

It is many, many years since I did anything other than watch the London Marathon from the comfort of my armchair. I ran the first two editions in 1981 & 1982, drove the lead vehicle in a few subsequent years and even supervised the laying of the blue line marking the route one year (long story but involved starting at midnight and jogging alone through some pretty dodgy Dickensian type areas of the Surrey Docks at 3am with rabid dogs howling ...). I decided this year to go up and soak in the atmosphere whilst supporting Chris Illman in particular.
I arranged to meet up with a gang from Ranelagh who go up every year and therefore know the lie of the land and shortcuts etc., or so I thought ... I felt a bit guilty on the Docklands Light Railway being squeezed in amongst all the runners going to the start (leaving it a bit late I thought). It was very interesting observing them: a lot of jovial banter amongst those travelling together, some very pensive faces, ashen faced even (what other sport does that to you?) and others just constantly drinking as much fluid as possible - most of which would have been flushed out of their system before the start so would actually be a bit pointless.
Greenwich was heaving with spectators even though there was an hour before the elite women were due through and another 45 minutes until the masses. The plan was to watch at six miles then jog under the Thames using the Greenwich foot tunnel and watch again on the Isle of Dogs, this was the standard Ranelagh plan. As I was early I checked out the tunnel - blocked off! There was no chance of using the tunnel. So much for the Ranelagh experience & expertise.
Time at Greenwich wasn't wasted as I met up with Ray & Margaret Auerback, friends from Ranelagh who now live down in Devon. Margaret was a very good runner in her time, winning the Isle of Wight Marathon along with me in 1985, and it was interesting talking to Ray, who never professed to being anything other than a very average club runner - he was more interested in making money as a barrister - yet he ran 2.33.30 in London in the early '80's. Perception has changed so much since that time. In 1982 Ranelagh had 21 finishers under 2.50, including five under 2.30, led by race winner Hugh Jones in 2.09.24. Picture shows me with teammate Andy Ewers in the last mile, we both ran 2.25.48 (click on picture for larger image). Ranelagh was never seen as an elite club, or one that was particularly strong - Hugh obviously being the exception - yet we all trained together and accepted that these kind of times were normal. Oh that we could garner that feeling and competitiveness at Cirencester's sessions! Progress is being made but there is still a long way to go. I really believe the club can move forward en masse - Wendy, Jane & Chris have led by example - the improvements over the last couple of years are testament to that, witness greatly improved regional & national relay results and Ciren depth in most local road races. Positive thinking and belief are so important as is team spirit. Club captain Adrian Williams is superbly capturing the latter and will hopefully drive the club forward. Whether I will be part of that only time will tell, I hope that I can be of help. Perhaps I will take a back seat and watch it happen.
Anyway, I digress, back to the race. First sight of the runners was the rather incongruous one of a handful of elite women. Only about a dozen started whilst 35,000 waited another 45 minutes, and I found it rather sad to see the current Olympic champion, Constantina Dita, already tailed off last of the dozen (clearly at the race to cash in on her champion status). Soon enough the main race came through led by a phalanx of rapid Africans - TV doesn't give a true perspective on the pace these guys run. They are rapid! Chris followed soon after, worringly earlier than planned but given the downhill nature of the first few miles, slightly understandable.
I then fought through the masses to get to Greenwich station, leaving my Ranelagh friends behind, and the DLR train across to the IoD, managing to see the runners again at 25km (15½ miles) where Chris was looking pretty good, and again at Canary Wharf at 19 miles amongst heaving crowds (not looking so good!). Underground to Waterloo and a bit of pace across Hungerford Bridge got me to the 40km marker where I met up with my very good Dutch friend Alex Halter, over with a tour group from Holland. I was too late for the leaders here but saw Chris go through and walked with Alex to the finish. Tony Curry then rang me from his spot helping at the finish line to say that Chris had finished; he was somewhat aghast to hear that I was only 400 metres away when he thought I was in Cirencester!
Caught up with Chris afterwards. Although disappointed, having got his pace wrong, he was quite sanquine about things as he lugged the biggest rucksack ever seen from the finishing funnel to his waiting parents. This was a stepping stone for him and he'll be stronger for it going forward. Ranked 2nd in the marathon at U23 level he knows there are opportunities ahead to make a real impression at the highest level. Quite ironic though that he was only 30 seconds faster than my afore-mentioned friend Ray. Also had a chat with Adam Harborow, who must have been the only runner in the race holding himself back in the last few miles: his sole aim was to get the three hour monkey off his back and he didn't want to seize up, so he paced himself perfectly. Look for a sub 2.50 next year from Adam.
Don't know about the guys who ran the race but I was exhausted; lots of short, fast running bursts throughout the morning interspersed with regular text messages to/from interested parties: Rupert Chesmore, out on the course supporting Liza, the Ranelagh gang, Claudie, Natalie, Wendy, Alex and others. An exhilarating morning, thoroughly enjoyable, but perhaps next year I'll have my feet up in front of the TV again.

The joys of marathoning revisited.

I woke with intense cramp in my right calf and didn't know what to do with myself. It is many years since I've had this sensation, probably when I last ran a marathon in 1995 (the one before that was in 1985). Oh, the joys of marathon running. Only this happened on Saturday morning in our delightful Guest House in Oban on the way up to Fort William and therefore before the marathon! Had I been dreaming about the race? Don't think so and if I had it would have been a nightmare not a dream. What was I letting myself in for after two months of bad health manifesting itself in many different and dispiriting ways? At least Claudie and I had already enjoyed a few days in delightful warm sunshine as a prelude to the race, initially visiting my favourite cousin in Perth, then meeting for the first time in my life a cousin of my mum's in Oban, interspersing all this with touring in some of the most wonderful scenery in the world. So the flights, car hire, accommodation all booked up when I entered the race weren't totally wasted.

I chose this marathon some months ago for a number of reasons: I felt to urge to revisit my former favourite distance, especially having rediscovered some form in recent months; I didn't want to do a big race like London or a foreign city race as I felt low key was the best way back; I figured that a top 10 place was there for the taking, and I really fancied a short break in Scotland. This race, which has been going for 26 years, appealed especially because as well as the backdrop of Ben Nevis and, ironically, the lure of a relatively flat course, it tracked the banks of Loch Eil, which has a special affinity to my family. My mum's maiden name is Cameron and she came from the Clan Cameron of Loch Eil, so it really just had to be done.
First impressions when collecting my number in Fort William was how this race is the absolutely perfect antidote to the brash commercialism of the London Marathon. 500 entrants, no stands selling shoes, very little publicity, just a good, well organised old fashioned race starting and finishing on a shinty pitch (watched a match the day before the race, it makes ice hockey look gentile). There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was ominously warm for the relatively late 11am start. Chatted to a couple of Bourton athletes (why is there always a Bourton runner wherever one races?!) then we were off with a 3,2,1 go!

Despite still feeling the calf cramp, I felt ok and was determined not to go off too fast. This was incredibly frustrating as I desperately wanted to go off with the lead pack. I had planned to run 6.45 miling to start with then, if I felt ok, maybe drop to 6.30's. 19.22 after 3 miles was a bit faster than this but I felt that I would feel uncomfortable running any slower, I'd already got into a good little group and I may as well try to get the race over with 'quickly' as this would save time on my feet - I know, a bit like accelerating towards a petrol station when running out of fuel but there you go.
Every mile between 3 and 10 was within 6 seconds (6.21 / 6.27) as I hooked up with a guy from Motherwell who seemed to know what he was doing. We were flowing along. By this stage I was about 25th. He then slowed at a drinks station and I found myself alone and reeled off 3 miles to halfway at an average of 6.17, picking off runners along the way. Being an out & back course I was able to ascertain my position at halfway, 12th in 1.24.00, faster than planned but I felt good and was enjoying picking off the runners ahead. This I did consistently, catching the guy in 4th at 19 miles. Thankfully he stayed with me, although I was slightly worried at his greying locks (turns out he wasn't even a V40!), and we helped each other through the "wall" miles. Fatigue was setting in but I'd hydrated well throughout the race, both with water and electrolyte (things have changed since I used to run marathons, in those days you made do with plastic cups of tap water which were impossible to drink out of), and also carried a gel, which I took at 19 miles and washed down at the next water station. Throughout the return journey along the banks of the Loch, the enormous, snow covered peak of Ben Nevis beckoned ever nearer - there was no doubting where the finish line was, although thankfully at the base not the summit of the country's highest mountain.

I was waiting for intense weariness to set in but I'd paced myself well and just after 23 miles the footsteps of my partner faded behind me (he eventually finished 4 minutes behind as the heat got to him). I was on my own in 4th but the next guy was a long way down the road. Held things together well (my fastest mile at 6.12 was no. 24) until the last mile which incorporated a couple of short, sharp climbs and was also into the brisk wind that had always been around but never in our faces. Claudie got the shock of her life when she looked up from reading her Sunday paper in the shinty stand: here was Wrighty flying (I exaggerate) down the finishing straight some 8 minutes faster than predicted, before collapsing in a heap across the finish line.

Elation turned to frustration a while later when I found out that the winner was only 4 minutes ahead - this was a race I could, in fact should, have won. I'd paced it perfectly, coming home in 1.23.20, giving me a negative split. Apart from my slow last mile (6.45), all my mile splits were between 6.12 and 6.29 and my 5 mile splits were 32.15, 32.04, 31.26, 31.31, 31.55.

After the presentation we drove to a wonderful hotel in the middle of Glencoe, miles away from anywhere, and enjoyed a few beers in the hot early evening sunshine (see picture). My face and shoulders were burnt but my calf cramp had gone! I think I've got the marathon bug back.

Lots of miles ... mostly in the car

Seemed like a good idea at the time. Instead of seeing a double booking as an annoyance, a quick chat with Claudie and we agreed that instead of being double booked we'd go to both events happening on the same day, thus letting nobody down. Only problem was that one was in Birmingham and the other in London. We live in Cirencester!

It is an indicator of how far the club has come in recent times that talk before the Midlands 12 stage relay in Sutton Park wasn't whether we'd make the top 25 teams and qualify for the Nationals, but just how much time and how many positions we could take from last year. Despite a couple of late withdrawals the team was pretty strong and we easily beat our 2008 time by three minutes and improved four places to 14th. The problem comes next year. Whilst there were a couple of teams just ahead, there was then a gap of a few minutes before we can contemplate competing with the likes of Cheltenham. But that must be the target and is attainable. Year on year improvement at these relays is a great barometer of the club's improvements. Can the team stay together and move forward? Difficult to say, there are issues, but only time will tell. I'll be too old and slow soon so other, younger guys can take my place. I take no great pleasure in still dragging my ageing limbs around, it's a young man's sport.

A quick shower then instead of heading for the M5 it was the M6/M1 for our rendezvous in London which we made just 10 minutes late. Despite a late night I managed a lonely, contemplative 23 miles next morning, just like the old days.

Picture depicts Solo the cat and my MG, both of which give the Wright family much pleasure in these difficult times.

Footnote on last week's Reading ½. Running Somewhere Else, the other running club in town, went up en masse to the event, hiring a bus and making a day of it. Their team spirit is fantastic and they all encourage each other. What a perfect set up: a running club based at a pub, that's my kind of club. No wonder the lovely Jacki, who has the dubious pleasure of cutting my hair (and a very fine job she does I hear you say) enjoys being part of their team. I'm tempted ...