Race Report - Bath Half Marathon

Reader,

I’ll have to come clean with you. I’m in (almost) uncharted territory here. Regular readers of this blog, both of you, will have become familiar with the TrainandScoff Race Report. There’ll be a lot of build up, the race is dissected in detail and then I struggle to draw conclusions over whatever calamity befell me on the day.

The only problem is nothing went wrong this time.

Now this could be the shortest Race Report I ever wrote, but people seem to like it when I give my perspective on a race, so I’ll do my best to be business as usual.

It wasn’t the most auspicious of build ups. Every since Christmas, I’ve been plagued by a right Achilles that didn’t want to play ball. In fact, it didn’t want to play anything. I’d had a couple of week’s pain free and was enjoying notching up a couple of 20 milers at the weekends. Then on the Wednesday before the race, the Achilles tendonitis flared up again and became a most unwelcome companion. In these situations there not a lot you can do apart from stretch like your life depended on it and down Ibuprofen like they’re going out of fashion.

I’d avoided the 20-30mins easy run that had been in my plan on the Saturday. I surmised that that might just aggravate things; the majority of training was done. We travelled down to Bath on the Saturday afternoon, and after checking into the Hotel (about 10 miles out of town to save some cash) we headed into Bath for a bite to eat.

I’d tried to plan my time as effectively as possible. The first thing we did was to do a drive round the course, in reality a wrong turn meant we went round it backwards! From the amount of gentle slope we were seeing, there would be quite a bit of downhill, a nice comfort for the nervous runner. I’d already found a Chinese Buffet place to eat. I was conscious that I hadn’t eaten enough the night before Bristol HM, so we went somewhere where I could have my fill, and fill I did. I tried to avoid the fatty stuff and stick to the noodles, rice, veg and simpler proteins. No sticky sweet and sour sauces. The soft drinks were also help-yourself so I could get plenty of liquid in.

It was while sat down in the restaurant that I felt my first real pang of nerves. Of course Steve was great as ever, even the gentle ribbing can be a comfort and keep your feet on the ground. Whatever the next action was he would respond “you do what you need to do”, so I didn’t feel like I was ruining his weekend too much. After the meal we took a walk to the start and then the first mile or so of the course that wasn’t part of the loop system. I’d been warned about the hill that greets you just before the finish, but in reality it didn’t seem too bad. When you’re used to 3 x 10min Kenyan Hills, a little 50m slope seems like nothing, dig in and bring it home.

We left Bath and went back to the Hotel via Sainsbury’s. Lovely Steve brought me a little bottle of Prosecco for a night cap, along with flapjacks and Bananas for quick energy on the day.

I slept a lot better then I had done in Bristol, only waking once in the night briefly. We got up and went down to breakfast. I had meant to bring breakfast with us but had forgotten it. Good old Premier Inn. Although at £5.25 each it must have ranked as the most expensive bowl of muesli in history. There were other runners at breakfast, solace in the flash of a trainer.

We used the Racecourse Park and Ride which was excellent. You arrived at the racecourse and are directed to the trainer and owners bar with complementary tea and coffee before being whisked into Bath. The drop off point was separate from the main park and rides, something we were thankful for when seeing the queues to return in the afternoon.

Bath has a great set up. Plenty of loos, a great runner’s village and a good atmosphere. I love the big city races. I had a white start so knew I‘d be relatively near the front. After a very efficient bag drop and saying goodbye to Steve *Gulp* I made my way to the start. I was VERY near the front.

There was a little warm-up area just in front of the start line, to save getting cold I gave it a go, although immediately realised I was running the wrong way to everyone else. I sheepishly changed direction and jogged round a couple of times. I didn’t want to start with completely cold muscles, if my race plan was going to work. I saw Martin Yelling from Marathon Talk and was dying to say hello, but I had to concentrate on what I was there for. I went back to line up, ready to start.

I had a thought in the back of my head “you could do with a final loo stop” but when I went to leave the start pen it seemed like they weren’t letting people leave. Because Great Pultney Street is so enclosed, and there were so many people, there wasn’t the chance to have a cheeky wee at the side, like other races. I thought oh well and got ready to begin.

The gun went off and we all surged forward. The start was typically fast with the nice downhill that we would return to at the finish. I’d done my homework, reviewed my race at Bristol and come up with a race plan. Use the first two miles to find your race pace and then KEEP IT STEADY to the finish. My coach Nick is a big help in stuff like this and he’d sent me some wise words in the build up.

After about three quarters of a mile I saw someone have a wee, which was my chance. I ducked into the gap where he was and got it out of the way early. When I got going, the first mile beeped 7.04. That was good, especially with a loo stop and the same pace I had at Bristol. The second mile was hilly in the centre of town but soon the beeped by 6:52 – spot on. I was feeling good and settling in to race pace.

The miles beeped by and I was holding it at 6:40ish. I wasn’t letting anything outside affect me. People would surge and fall back around me but I just ignored them. Their race wasn’t my race. I found I was slowly making my way through the field, just by keeping a constant pace, just like my coach said I would.

There were a few shouts of “Come on Penny Lane” and even one of “Come on Pen….nsylvania Striders” ??!?!.

The funniest thing in the whole race has to be when I was at about mile 9 on the second lap; we were right in the right hand lane with the first lappers on the left. There were two blokes dressed as inflatable Genitals running along on their first lap but it looked like they were chasing this poor woman in front, who kept turning round and going “Eeek!”

I took my gels at the allotted times and didn’t take any water. Mainly because I didn’t feel like I needed it. I was still going great guns at mile 10although I could feel the effort level starting to increase. “Come on, you’ve got so far you’ve got less than 5K to go” I was telling  myself. I hadn’t allowed any drama on the way round. It was not going to be that sort of day. I’d made that decision and was sticking to it. I’d made a little mantra for myself which really helped:

“Mind over Matter – You don’t mind [what everyone else is doing] and this really matters]

The last two miles were a grind, but there were a couple of guys around me and we were pulling each other along. Seeing Carl at Mile 12 was amazing, to know that one of the RWU family was there gave me a big lift. It’s when I allowed myself the thought of “You’re going to do this”. But there was still over a mile to go.

Wild Horses could not have averted my gaze from the road 5m in front of me in that last mile; we turned to tackle that last hill. I took my first water bottle from the station at the bottom, tipped it over myself and dropped the hammer.

“Wind It Up, Wind It Up, Wind It Up, Wind It Up, Wind It Up, Wind It Up…” I told myself, as I always doing going up hills. You have to do a train motion with your left arm as well. Hey, it works for me.

At the top of the hill, a guy was shouting race times “one twenty-eight fifteen” I heard as I went past. Could it be true, could this be the day I went sub-90.

I turned the last corner into Great Pultney Street and saw the clock on the finish gantry “01:29:.. and bits”

GET YOUR FUCKING COURAGE LEGS ON HAWKINS 

Go-Go-Gadget COURAGE LEGS

The feeling as I crossed the line….

It’s as good as you always hoped it would be.

The 3000 miles I’ve logged with Garmin, the Shitty Rowing Races, The Shitty Running Races, The Shitty Winter & My Shitty Achilles. Gone. I’m not ashamed to admit it, my eyes were moist.

 My whole race plan had executed perfectly and given me the result I was after. I don’t have to offer up any excuses for a sub-par performance, or say “if only….blah blah blah”.

I’m known for being quite tough on myself when it comes to sport, but for one of the first times in my (sporting) career I was able to say to myself

“Well Done Hawkins, You’ve Done Enough”.

That feeling is good shit.

*

*I'm sorry for the length of this post, I was alone in a hotel and had plenty of spare time.