27.8 is the new 26.2

I don’t get to run marathons very often…so this is abit self indulgent and goes on abit. And as I’m asking for others to write reports (where are they huh?) then suppose I should do one….. So in the style of Crispian Bloomfield (he’s a runner in Essex who writes an epic blog  on every race he does!)

Reims Marathon The morning of the race, the last thing I wanted to do was run a marathon. I was feeling bloated from the carb loading and slightly queasy from all the sugar I’d drunk, and confidence wasn’t high. My overall build up had been far from ideal, after a lazy summer of less than 30 mile weeks, niggles and inconsistency. I managed only 6 weeks of proper mileage and long runs before a two week taper. So I had no real idea how it was going to go. I settled on a last minute plan of going out at 6:35mm so to give me a chance of either, a time close to 2:50 if things went very well, or a little cushion to beat my PB (2:55). Worst case scenario was to have enough time in the bank to finish in 3:10 to get a Good For Age time. The start was quite surreal, with runners taking refuge in the Cathedral, and a noticeable absence of toilets! So people were peeing in any bush or scrub that could be found. I eventually found a porta loo (just 4 for the entire field) but it had no paper, zut alors! Conditions were breezy and about 8 degrees so I was glad when the race eventually set off as I was getting tres cold. The 1st mile was slightly quicker than planned ie 6:23, but I soon got into a rhythm and ticked off the miles at 6:30-6:40 pace. The half marathon folk who had started 30mins earlier were coming back on the other side of the road, so I got to cheer on club mates which was cool and added to the day feeling abit more like the club trip it was supposed to be.

Two Beckenham Runners

I didn’t feel that great during the early stages, I don’t know if it was the girly looking compression socks, but my lower legs weren’t feeling very lively or fresh, and throbbed abit, I took that as a sign that this was going to be a long race (oh the irony!). Fortunately this only lasted for about the first 10k and went away. After heading out into the suburbs we turned around and headed back to Reims via an uninspiring industrial estate and into a stiff breeze. At this point a small train formed of me and three others, they were generally going at 6:30mm so I stuck with them. The train often switched positions much like a peloton and sharing the work. We were all moving along at a good pace without expending to much extra energy along the exposed parts. The train continued along up to the half way point in about 1:26. It briefly derailed at a water station which left me on own for a mile or so, but reformed again later. The peloton then launched a break away, I completed the 15th mile in 6:22 but was still dropped. I wasn’t going to get sucked into that, but the train had pulled me along nicely and got me into a faster grove than planned and I was finding it comfortable to maintain, so I said bon voyage. As I got closer to 20 miles my legs were still feeling fairly good and I was really enjoying the race. So out came the fabled kitchen sink, and I was now overtaking a string of runners (including my previous train) who were now running out of steam and completing their own death marches to the finish. Mentally I was thinking of different running routes I’ve trained on and equating them to the distance left, just a Hayes run to go…just a parkrun…. In my head I was ready to really give it some in the last mile as I smelt a sub 2:50 time which I thought would be the least likely of outcomes to happen whilst lining up at the start………oh rollocks!

At 24 miles, a combination of my stupidity/lack of concentration and a marshal directing me along a part of the course which I’d already been on a hour earlier, meant that all my good work was about to unravel before my eyes. Parts of the course had so many twists and turns, that I had totally lost my bearings and just went with with it. I noticed that the type of runner I was now overtaking weren’t the sort that would have been rattling along at 2:50 pace! I tried to ask the marshals if I was on course or had taken a wrong turning as I thought perhaps I was lapping people, and got a oui and a point in the direction I was heading, errr Non. Fortunately the extra loop I’d taken came back to the bridge I’d incorrectly run over so I was able to rejoin the correct course. Whilst on my not very scenic diversion, my watch (gps) was already telling me I’d run a marathon in 2:50 but the K markers, now I’d rejoined the correct section of the course where telling me I still had another 3k or so to go. Sacre Bleu!

My head was all over the place now, it was so frustrating, demoralising & even embarrassing, HTF did that happen! One second I dared to think how I was going to celebrate at the finish if I got a sub 2:50, then the next it’s was all gone. I was so tempted to sack it and just go back to the hotel (which was very close by!) I also wanted to see the others from the club at the finish and watch Mel and Ed finish their marathons and I still had plan C, a 3:10 for a GFA time so at least I could take something away from the race, ( just incase I can’t run VLM 2011 for some reason). Bizarrely my legs were still going fine so I pulled my head together and just kept going. I managed 6:45pace as I continued on for the 27th mile and then eventually, feeling flat and deflated, I crossed over the finish line in 3:00:49 after running 27.8 miles.

I was so disappointed and angry at the end, but after a few glasses of champagne gradually perspective was restored, (or I was getting too drunk to care!) worse things can happen can’t they! Physically I had just run a 2:49-51 marathon (2:50:06 on my totally accurate GPS watch!) and run a negative split, only on the wrong part of the course, and no official result to show for my efforts!

However the marathon didn’t stop there….roll on to 2:30am and I can say Beckenham Runners party as hard as they run!

It was a long night.....