Alloa Half Marathon 2015

I've told anyone who has asked, for the past few months, that this race didn't really matter to me; it was a kickstart into the year, and more about the mental challenge of completing a race in which I could potentially come last. I told anyone who'd listen, and I told myself. "It doesn't really matter." "What happens, happens." ......I lied.

My target was that 3 hour mark. I've done 4 half marathons since 2012, and with the exception of the last one (the ill-fated Newcastle racecourse run in December 2013) I had trained specifically for them all. This time round, as you'll know, my training started in January, with me at my heaviest weight in well over 4½ years, and mentally not in a good place with running - I couldn't even run 1km without walking. My times were slow, my mentality poor, and my walk-breaks frequent. However, I struggled on over the last 10½ weeks - I sorted out my food intake, I got focussed in the gym, and I started to introduce 'the long run' back into my training. It's early days. All of my long runs (which never went over 10 miles) suggested I was going to complete a half marathon around the 3 hour mark, and I'd looked at previous years' results and was well aware that the 3 hour mark could potentially have me finishing dead last. I was determined, though, that if that was the case, I would not beat myself up. It wouldn't be a repeat of 2013's Southside Six, and it wouldn't interrupt what is so far proving to be fantastic progress in my mindset, weight, and fitness this year. But the doubts were there, niggling away. Could I hit that 3 hour mark?? What if I didn't?? Surely I wouldn't be slower than Newcastle's 3:10:22? My PB is 2:44:20, which was ran just 2½ months earlier in Sept 2013, but I knew I was currently nowhere near the level of running fitness I was when I lined up at that Great North Run. So, what could I do?

On the morning of the race, I felt ill with nerves. I had about half a dozen trips to the bathroom before I finally left the flat, and on the drive across to Alloa I purposely put my cheesy running upbeat playlist on to listen to. Luckily for me, the random shuffle feature landed on a track I've selected as my 2015 theme tune (I'm not telling anyone what it is) and I decided to belt it out as I drove down the motorway. My voice cracked, and my stomach fluttered, but dammit, I was starting this race. That 3 hour mark was at the forefront of my mind, and weighed heavily on my shoulders. Parking up, I spotted Vicky, Morna and Stuart from Tollcross parkrun, and in the carpark I also met Alan and Lynn - both fresh from running the D33 ultra the day before. Lynn was here to spectate, but Alan was running - and actually went on to finish the half marathon only a few second shy of his PB! Anyway, chatting to them, eating a banana, and walking over the registration, helped distract me a little. Picked up my race bib, and pinned it on, then I spotted Davie and Julie, and made a beeline to congratulate the newly engaged couple home from their holidays. Lots more chat, a few more familiar faces, and then we headed inside to dump our extra layers and get ready.

As Davie changed in that busy sports hall, I pulled my jacket off, and felt a wash of nerves go through me. For a few minutes I stood silently - uncomfortably fidgeting and looking around - prompting Davie to look up, and offer: "stop panicking, you'll be fine." - I took a deep shuddery breath, and suddenly needed to be outside; everything felt a little claustrophobic. I wished Davie the best, quick hug, and I marched out, and up to the start area.

The race started without much of a fanfare, and after a little bit of shuffling forwards in the crowd, the arch approached, I hit the start button on my Garmin, and off I set. The first mile is a loop back to almost the start again, so I know from spectating last year that a lot of people stay there to cheer the runners past. I told myself I would aim to run the entire first mile before doing any walking, and I set off steadily, without looking at my watch. I knew I needed to keep up with the group at the back, I didn't want to be dead last from the very beginning, so I paced myself at this nice slow group's pace - my watch buzzed the first km in 7:04, and as I knew I needed to average 8:30 for each km, I almost panicked, but reasoned I felt okay at this speed just now. The second km was 7:06, and the third was 6:46 !!! I can't remember the last time I ran a sub-7 minute km. It's also been a very long time since I ran 3kms without walking. I started walking shortly after this point, but was firm in keeping a brisk pace up, and running when I could. The next few miles passed uneventfully... well, I say that, but as my watch buzzed 5km at 36:41 (hahahahahah – that's my fastest 5km since Nov 2013, done in a half marathon!), and my first 10km was 75:05. That's about 7 or 8 minutes faster than any 10km distance I've ran in 18 months. My mind whirred with calculations. I knew I was starting a lot faster than I could finish, but actually I didn't worry about that - I really haven't had the endurance training so it was better to build up a nice time cushion in the first half, and as long as I kept a decent pace going in walk breaks, they could get a little longer without too much impact. Just. Keep. Moving.

I passed the mid-way mark at 1:19 (I mused to myself "I bet James is actually crossing the finish line right now..." - turns out he actually WAS! lol, absolutely fantastic run from him, well paced, and a clear demonstration of what you can do with consistent, focussed training) - and I passed 11kms at 1:22:59. My half marathon PB is is 2:44 - and I had done the first half of this race well within that pace. What. The. Hell??

Of course, I was always going to struggle in the second half - I'd been pretty much last for the whole race so far, give or take half a dozen women that kept swapping around with me, and we chatted whenever we passed each other; it was a nice experience, and I never once got down about it - last place no longer mattered. (As it turned out, I found out when the results came out, that there were 2 women some significant way behind us, that I'd never seen - I'd been misled into thinking we were last because I could never see anyone else behind us, and because the sweeper bus kept coming up alongside us for stretches of the road...!) - anyway, as I went I kept doing the sums. At 13kms I worked out that if I kept my kms under 10 minutes for the rest of the race, I'd finish under 3 hours. And I can walk at 10 minute km pace, so... I grinned. I actually grinned. It finally became doable.

I spotted Amanda and Clark by the road, and ran across to hug Amanda - with a breathless "I'm going way too fast!" - she laughed and said she knew I was well ahead of my target. I added, with a grin "But I'm still last!" (I wasn't, but I didn't know that...) Then I was on my way, immediately overtaking the two girls who had been just ahead of me, because I figured I couldn't walk while I was still in the eyeline of Clark-the-personal-trainer, lol... At around 14kms, my Garmin suddenly reset itself. WTF?!! I kept moving, staring mournfully at my wrist as it came back to life, and the very second it did, I pressed start to 'un-pause' my record. The uploaded data shows I lost 100 seconds on my Garmin at the point, but I didn't know at the time how much, so all future calculations had to be done with a bit of leeway. Regardless, around 15km+ I was managing roughly 8:30 for a km, until Menstrie Brae hill at around 16kms - I got my head down, and briskly walked the whole hill, catching up with the girls ahead of me, and taking some distance from the two girls behind me (who I thought were in last place) - I managed these two kms at 9:17 and 9:11 - bearing in mind I was still firm in knowing that anything under 10 minutes would be good enough for sub-3. By about 19kms my left foot was starting to hurt, but by this point we had also returned to a residential part of the route, and I decided to try and run-walk the lamp-posts, as much as I could. Shortly before 20kms, I felt tears building up behind my eyes. It was a real combination of my foot hurting and just the struggle of trying to run for more than 20 seconds at a time, knowing I was going to come in comfortably under 3 hours, and being so damn proud of myself for never ONCE being negative with myself. The 20th km was 8:44, and the 21st was 8:14!

As I approached the finish straight, I heard a few people calling my name, and as I tried to spot their faces as I passed I didn't know whether they actually knew me, or it was because my name was on my chest, haha! And I saw Davie, who looked pretty happy to see me. I think maybe I was smiling, I don't know. I just wanted to get across the line. :-) When I did, I grabbed my medal, tshirt, and bottle of water, and sought out the race director. "Hi, can I just say thanks for the way all your volunteers dealt with us slow folk at the end. Everyone was so supportive, the driver of the sweep bus was fantastic, encouraging and kept a respectful distance, and all the marshals and water stations were brilliant." - my voice cracked, and I mumbled thanks again, and walked away before I could start crying, like the big soft eejit I am. Because the race clock started a minute or two before I crossed the start line, and because I'd lost a little time on my Garmin, I had no idea of my actual finish time, but I knew it was well under 3 hours. I estimated 2:52, and I have to say, I was thrilled. Granted, 2:52 is not exactly a fast half marathon, but for me, and for where I am with my fitness and my training, it's bloody epic. The final results came out shortly afterwards, and I had finished in 2:50:34. Almost ten full minutes faster than I'd expected. Fan-bloody-tastic. And I wasn't last. ;-)

Caught up with Davie and Julie, and a few others, after that, then went to get some food with the Moonertys, Alan and Lynn. Everyone seems to have had pretty good races in the main, and it was a nice positive atmosphere. A very relaxing afternoon in the pub, but I started to get really tired, and knew that the combination of all the driving I'd done over the past couple of days, the fact I'd ran a half marathon, and the loss of those pent up nerves I'd been holding for the race, was going to hit my energy levels hard - and I still had an hour's drive home to do. I drove home with my music turned up loud, and a smile on my face - and I guess I couldn't have asked for much more than that. x

Photos courtesy Barry Davie, and Clark Hamilton. Thanks guys. x