“Mile 9 should feel like halfway”

This was the sage advice that resulted in an entirely unexpected half-marathon pb.

After breaking my ankle in February (small avulsion fracture), I spent six months doing nothing, then going to the gym, then gradually remembering how to run.

In a fit of excitement, I signed up for the Richmond half-marathon with a view to pootling round slowly. I wasn’t even sure whether I’d run.

Come Sunday 6th September, it was a beautiful sunny day in Kew Gardens where the race began. I was queuing for the loos, as one does before a race, when I got chatting. In fact, the queues for the loos were so long that every time I went, I turned around and immediately rejoined the back of said queue, knowing the effect race nerves can have.

Anyway, it was on the second round-trip that I got chatting to a man who was aiming for 71 minutes. He was very sweet and self-effacing and when I asked for help with breaching two hours, he said ‘mile 9 should feel like halfway’.

It was with this in mind that I started. And, in line with his advice, I ran very slowly so as to ensure I had plenty of energy left at mile 9. At mile 8, I recall watching a flock of geese fly over the Thames. I think those first few miles were the most enjoyable of any race.

Then, at mile 9, I decided to speed up. Except it didn’t quite work like that. I had loads of energy – and then suddenly I had none. It was hot, I was thirsty and I didn’t have anything on me. So, effectively, miles 9 to 13 were as slow as the first 9, but less enjoyable.

That said, I did have enough to kick for the last 100 metres. Without a stopwatch or any other measuring device, I had no idea of time, but it occurred to me that a short sprint at the end couldn’t hurt.

All in all, it was a lovely race and one I highly recommend. And the biggest shocker, despite the apparent slowness, it was a pb. And not just a pb, it was only 55 seconds off the 2-hour mark. 55 seconds. So close. Next time!

Stats: 13.1 miles; 2 hours 55 seconds; 9'17" per mile. Hmmm... just worked out, had I managed four seconds faster per mile, I'd have come in under two hours. Food for thought.

Pics: Lovely Kew on a beautiful day; the 'winning' medal; blister - must buy new socks.

Peroneus longus

Not a character from Life of Brian; but a muscle/tendon that runs down your leg and round your foot. It's also the reason I won't be doing the Exeter half marathon next Saturday. Mine's torn or strained or something like that. ETA for return to running: six to eight weeks. Disappointed about the half as I thought this might finally (after just four years of trying) be the one I do in under two hours - super flat course in an area I know well. Sadly, unless someone very strong volunteers to carry me, this won't be happening. Neither will the Grizzly in March - 20 miles of hills, bogs and beaches. Less disappointed about that one.

Pic: Ankle does not usually look like this.

Don't be afraid of the dark

It's not often you get to run 10 miles on Dartmoor. In the dark. In the snow. With 20 mph winds...

Saturday's Wild Night Run was rather amazing. For a small moment between blizzards, I was completely alone. The benefit to being at the back. It was so peaceful. No people. No noise. Just miles of rocks, snow and gorse. The moonlight was pretty bright so I turned off my head torch... And then I turned it back on again because I was scared: I've read the Hound of the Baskervilles.

At this point, a fellow runner joined me. We did the last six miles together. He was an excellent guide and an even more excellent puller-of-persons-out-of-deep-mud. Two days on, it's still in every crevice.

I have to say, it was one of the toughest and best races I've entered. Despite being weather-beaten at mile eight, I flew at mile nine. There's a lot to be said for country air.

There's less to be said for country lanes and my ability to navigate them. One minute I was flying, the next I was lying on the road, having tripped in a pothole. I've spent a lot of time on the floor recently. There's a chance my proprioception is up the creek. But it's more likely I was chatting and not paying attention.

Hey ho, what can you do?! Give up or get up. I staggered to the finish line with an egg for an ankle. If I'm honest, when I crossed the line I was trying not to cry. Partly because it was quite an emotional experience, but mainly because my ankle was bloody agony. Really painful. Like the bone was coming away from the ligament.

So, a character-building weekend. A lovely race with a great crowd of people and very nice mushroom stroganoff. Just make sure you wear lots of layers, preferably carry a hydration backpack and, most importantly, don't take your eyes off the road.


(Stats: 10 miles; 2 hours 2 minutes 22 seconds; position 181/201; 12.14 minute/mile)

Fifty shades of mud

First parkrun of the new year at Exeter Quay. Beautiful run, flat course, pouring rain.

In fact, it was torrential when I left my parents' so I may have overdressed. I removed two layers during the briefing, another while running and finally - reluctantly - peeled off my new 'go faster' hat three-quarters of the way round. It was like a very slow unerotic striptease.

Highly recommend the Riverside run, nice and level, though the middle couple of kilometres does involve tromping through a muddy field. Probably why I'm now filthy and nursing a minor groin strain. However, worth it for my new pb! Hoorah. Happy new year.

Stats: 3.1 miles; 27.04; 8.44 minute/mile. Plus a lovely coffee in the Quay Climbing Centre.

Pic: Hiding in the car till just before the briefing. I like running in the rain far more than I like standing in the rain.

Nippier than normal

Proof, were it needed, of the pond's 'parkiness'. Well done, lifeguards: Ham & High - woman rescued from Hampstead Heath pond

Getting ready for winter

When I was about six, I went to school with a boy who could dislocate his shoulder at will. Which he did, frequently. It looked revolting, but was quite impressive to my six-year-old eyes. I thought of him yesterday when I was trying to remove my new Adidas sports bra. It's a one-piece affair that involves stretching it up over your head. It's tricky enough to get on, but getting it off when you're hot after running is a near impossibility. It probably didn't help I was trying to undress in the damp changing rooms at Hampstead Heath ladies' pond. At one point, I feared I'd have to ask for help. Thankfully, after several minutes of wriggling, I was free, but so shattered I nearly couldn't swim. The 13-degree water woke me up. After the warmth of swimming in the Med on Thursday, this was more of a shock than usual. One girl said her friend had had to be rescued last week as she cramped up so badly. Maybe time to don a pre-swim layer of goose fat. Which might also help with the sports bra removal.

(Stats: Run: 3.1 miles; 29.45; 9.35 minute/mile. Swim: 10 metres; about two minutes - three, at the most.)

A very nice surprise

A strange thing happened on Sunday. I ran the final 10k in the Regent's Park summer series - and I got a pb.

I attribute this to two things:

1. I rested up and ate a lot of pasta for the two days preceding the race
2. For the first time ever, I had a plan - I was aiming for a pace of 5'40" per km and kept an eye on my stopwatch to maintain this speed

Actually, there was a third thing: I got to the start line early and positioned myself near the fast runners. I was hoping some of their glory might rub off on me. And indeed it did.

A month ago, my 10km time was 58'15". My aim was just to breach the 58-minute mark. So when I saw the final result, I was so surprised, I thought there'd been a mistake.

Stats: 10km (6.2 miles); 53.48; 8.40 minute/mile.

Pic: The tastiest finish-line flapjack of the season.