Race Report – Lake Vyrnwy HM 2014

Right, let’s get this out of the way. This is the single worst race I have ever had the misfortune to run in. Out and out misery, from beginning to end. Game Over.

…Right

…Have they gone?

This can be our little secret. Lake Vyrnwy is one of the best Half Marathons in the country, but we can’t be telling everyone. Catch my drift? I mean, it already sells out every year, despite being in the middle of nowhere.  People coming back year-after-year. It’s got to be doing something right.

Lake Vyrnwy is gorgeous

With the growth of running as a mass-participation sport, there are becoming fewer and fewer chances to run in what feel like proper runners races. I have to admit, dear reader, I am one of the ones rolling my eyes at the start of races with their bouncy-bouncy warmups and “Eye of the Tiger” jukeboxes. Really, it is just a race, someone indicates go and you all run as fast as you can until you cross the finish line.

Therefore, races like Vyrnwy HM (and others such as the Trafford 10K and Capenhurst 5K) give a refreshingly old-school race experience. By this I do not mean ultra-competitive, or snooty. We are all runners, where you’re finishing the race in an hour or three hours. Just the main focus on the day is the race, not the paraphernalia we get around many events. This approach is obviously successful as club runners attend in their coachloads, literally coachloads. 

Vyrnwy is one of the friendliest races out there, an event set up and run by the local community, it has a real family atmosphere and all the facilities you need. Plenty of toilets, showers, changing rooms and cake. A couple of massage tables, shop stand from Bourne Sports and reasonably priced race photos from Mick Hall complete the package.

The build up to Vyrnwy has been great. Obviously, the main focus is Frankfurt and all my training has been geared towards that. I know that I benefit from a very light taper week in the build up to a race, so I binned a couple of the easier runs and just id the focused sessions. A light 30 minutes the day before left ne ready to face the challenge.

I say ready, in reality I was completely bricking it. I’d manages a decent PB there last year of 1:27:54, and after the disappointment of Liverpool R’n’R Half, my coach was keen for a good result here. That PB worked out as 6:42 a mile which seemed ridiculously fast for me.  Going any faster would mean dropping to a time that was dangerously close to my 10K pace. In the days leading up to the race I’d found myself doing endless calculations of what different paces and times would mean. All this did was scare me even more. With the focus having been on marathon training, clipping long at MP was very different to a concerted effort for around 90 minutes.

I gave myself a reality check. I am in my best ever shape and have had a great summer of running sub-19 5Ks at the Mystery. I can clearly do something good and just need to control things and not go mad. Having recently made the switch to working in kilometres, I worked out that my previous PB was 4:10/Km pace. My dream is to run an 85min Half which is around 4:00/km pace so I gave myself a range of time to ain for of 4:05-4:10, with the knowledge that 86 minutes is 4:07/km pace

So I had a plan, it seemed fantastical but it was there.

Steve came down with me to the race. It is in a beautiful area. As usual I probably wasn’t much company. I’d packed us a picnic lunch, which I started eating at 10:30am so I didn’t have a stitch in the race at 1pm.

We arrived and I got myself ready. I remembered my start-line faux-pas from last year and made sure I started closer to the front. There were a few there who were clearly starting too far forward, but I didn’t have to wade through the field this time. It made the whole race feel very different. It’s a strange feeling knowing that those running around you are likely to be there for the whole race. 

There was some good banter with the other runners. “I PB’d last year so no pressure” I joked. The pit of my stomach lurched at the thought. Soon it was time to go. I was over the chip at in 4 secs from the gun time, a lot quicker than the 30 odd seconds it took last year, showing how far back I’d been. The first uphill mile came quickly. You have to tell yourself to hold back, there was a long way to go. My watch beep the first kilometre 3:50. “Too Fast, make it Easy” I told myself. There were a couple around me who started to pull away, but I didn’t want overexcitement in the first mile to cost me later on. 

As soon as we reach the reservoir the race proper starts. I was determined to run my own race. There are some that like to latch on to others and ‘race’ them the whole way. I’ve found that doesn’t particularly work for me as the stress of it sends my adrenaline levels through the roof and uses up all my energy. A bit of mental work came into play here. It’s a trick I’ve used successfully before. I imagine I’m running in a giant coloured bubble shield, kind of like what used to protect Sonic the Hedgehog. That day’s colour was green to match my new calf guards. Nothing can penetrate the bubble and I can run on my own terms inside it. Whenever I was feeling scared, the bubble protected me from what was going on around.  It sounds wacky but it really helps when you’re being pressured by another runner in a race. 

I was focusing on calming down and getting into my rhythm. I was running this race on feel and the feeling I was looking for was Threshold-10%. “Make it Easy On Yourself” (cue a song) was my mantra and one that became important in the early part of the race. Because I wasn’t passing a lot of people, it was all the more important to ignore the actions of those around me. There were some who had clearly started to fast and were paying for it. There were some who would surge and drop back and there were some rockets who decided to shoot off into the distance.  

Ironically, one of the best things you can do running around Lake Vyrnwy is to ignore Lake Vyrnwy. Start looking over the lake and you realise how far there is to run. Focus on the road in front (and the Hells Angels trying to mow you down). Where do they come from?

Handily, I had a Knowsley Harrier sat about 150m ahead of me. I knew he was a consistent pacer and he wasn’t getting any further away so it provided a handy visual check. The Kilometres were checking off quite nicely – they were all 4:0something depending on the slope of the course. Now Vyrnwy is flat but the road does undulate ever so slightly going round. At the 5Km I was conscious that I was working a little harder than I‘d expected to be so I took the opportunity to take on water and check myself over that everyone was okay.

“Take each Kilometre as it comes” I was telling myself.

At the 6 mile mark there is an uphill incline for about 1200m, just after a water section. I was pleased to reach this point as I like pushing on up hills and it meant the turning point on the lake wasn’t very far away. I’d decided just to take one gel with me and have it at the 10K mark. I took some on board and immediately didn’t feel great. “You’ve got this far without it and feel alright so crack on” I told myself. I’d had less than half the gel but held it in my hand until the next water station where I could dispose of it without littering the country side.

After the turn at the top of the lake, I’d remembered this was the point last year when it had started to dig in. I kept calm and carried on doing was I’d been doing up to that point. No changes, no dramas.  At this point the km beeps on my watch seemed to be coming about half way between the mile markers on the course, so it split the race up into nice easy short sections which was mentally very handy.

This approach paid dividends.

There was a point just after the 7 mile marker when I realised I was kicking on and passing quite a few people “Shit don’t speed up now” I panicked. Another group was passed and my watch beeped the next kilometre.  4:02 it said so I was going faster than my plan but I was still feeling ‘easy’ so hadn’t let it bother me. I realised, it wasn’t the fact that I was speeding up, it was that everyone else was slowing slightly as I had done at the same point the previous year. This was a MASSIVE boost and I remember thinking to myself “Game On”. 

The Knowsley Harrier who was in front was about 100m or so ahead, an ahead of him was a massive group of runners. In hindsight I realise this was probably a sub 85 pacing group. I knew the race was going well but I was purposefully not looking at the total time on my watch. I didn’t want to mess things up now so I carried on what I was doing.

I properly realised how great I was feeling when I managed a little joke with the cub and beaver scouts who were manning the water station at the 15k mark. I discarded the unused gel here and realised it was a little over 5K to the finish.

Three laps of the mystery. Game On.

There had a Stafford Harrier just in front of me and it had taken a couple of miles to catch him up. I had expected him to come with me when I went past but he gave me a word or two of encouragement and I pushed on. 

The thing about Vyrnwy is that really you have to think of it as a 12+1.1 mile race. The last mile descends a hill back to the village. This means you are willing yourself to mile 12, waiting for the view of the water tower on the lake signifying you are nearly there.

I can tell you they were a VERY BLOODY LONG TWO MILES. I was working hard now, but I’d come so far I wasn’t going to mess it up. “Today is not going to be one of those days” I was screaming to myself in my head. A couple of guys motored, and I mean motored past me at about mile 11. I had to blank them out of my memory as it was unusual for something like that to happen. 

I’d expected to see the water tower in the distance but all of a sudden it was there, next to me. “I’m nearly home, it’s a mile and a half or so” I told myself. Great crowds were cheering us home at the reservoir, and s the field it quite strung out you get your own applause. Knowsley was now about 150m ahead. I knew I wasn’t going to catch him, but he’d hardly been out of my sight the whole race. I was quite proud of that. 

The downhill began and I picked up a bit of steam. It carried on…and on….and on…and “HOW BLOODY LONG IS THIS HILL!” I was thinking, "I’m sure they had extended it mid race". I could hear the garble of the tannoy in the village. Of course, just as your bollocks are about to break at the bottom, that’s where the race photographer was, another classic.

There’s an evil little kick of a hill at the end which I’d sworn myself up last year, but it was soon over and I turned into the village. At this point I looked up and noticed the race clock at the finish line ahead of me. I couldn’t quite believe it was saying 1:25:02. Because I’d been focusing on each kilometre independently, I hadn’t taken noticed of all the extra seconds I was gaining. 

It was time for Go-Go-Gadget Courage Legs and I crossed the line in 1:25:15 in 79^th Place out of 1500-ish over the moon. For a second year I was beaming at the finish. 

The runners who finished at the same time were all congratulating each other and giving thanks for a good race. A couple of them said some very nice things about my run and tactics which did my ego and confidence wonders. 

This is turning into a must-do race. Just don’t tell everyone.

Runner's Guide to Racecraft

One of the most pleasurable things about training for the last couple of years has been the realisation that most people develop and ‘learn’ how to race. There can be a big difference in a runner when training and then sticking them on a start line of a race. Even the most hardy of runners can crumble under the pressure.

It should be simple, you do the same thing you do in training, just a bit faster.

Of course, the reality is often somewhat different. A myriad of thought, emotions and experiences manifest themselves in the mind of our nervous racer. This is something I have suffered with for a number of years.

It may not be massively profound, but hopefully some will find the following tips, found out the hard way, of some use.

1. It’s A -> B

I know you’ve got a cacophony of noise swirling around your head, but you need to silence it. Imagine a calm, serene lake in the glens of Scotland. Calm those troubled waters .You are here to travel from Point A to Point B (which is sometimes Point A again). Ignore everything else.

2. I mean that, ignore everything else

Unless you are lucky enough to be at the front of the field vying for a podium position, you don’t need to worry about anyone else.

Your club mate who always beats you?              Forget Them.

The people who sneak up on you mid race when you are most tired?        Forget Them/

The school bullies who have stopped whatever they were doing at that moment and travelled over to the race to heckle from the sidelines?

Deffo Forget Them

None of these people matter. It’s just you and your race plan.

3. HAVE A RACE PLAN

This is vital. Whatever the distance, you should form your plan early and then make your target on the day to execute that plan. It should not (in most cases) be “GO OUT AS HARD AS I CAN AND HANG ON FOR GRIM DEATH” (also known as the Maguire Supposition). When the going gets tough, you can turn all your thoughts to your race plan and how much of it you have achieved so far.

4. Ignore Everyone Else!

You may be detecting a theme here…

Unless it is a safety instruction, ignore other runners comments on time, pace, distance, feel, attractiveness of the squirrels, attractiveness of other runners (unless it is about you), breathing patterns, weather and everything else. The number of times I’ve been fed erroneous information…It’s a mind game, treat it as such.

5. Take it easy

The more I race, the more I realise a sensible pace should not leave you feeling like death after the first kilometre of a 5Km race.

I’ll use our local 5K race as an example.

It is a 3 x 1 mile loop and as such splits the race nicely into Start, Middle and End. When nailing my PB, I knew the feel I wanted as I raced  - I call it my ‘float’. Ignoring numerical pace, I concentrated on maintaining this feel. At the end of the first lap I still felt good and was starting to worrying that maybe I was going too slow. Fortunately, the race officials were shouting the 1 mile split times so I knew I was spot on. The second lap was harder in terms of effort but it was a gradual increase before coming round for the final lap. At that point, most people may be a bit ‘kitchen sink’, but by making the early stages of the race easier for yourself, you are more likely to have the last little bit of reserve for…

“GO GO GADGET, COURAGE LEGS”  - (thanks to Anna Railton for that)

Courage Legs (with 50m to go)

6. There can be too much respect

There may come a point in the race when you find yourself in, or just behind, a group you recognise a being a little faster than you are used to. It is so easy to think “Oh they are much faster than me…I must be going too fast…MAYDAY MAYDAY etc” But you have no idea what their race plan is, their current state of health or fitness. Do not show them too much respect. If you think you can pass them without messing up your race plan – go for it, put your raceface on and slowly reel them in.

7. K.I.S.S.

When entering the Hurt Locker, take everything back-to-basics. Concentrate on good form, the position of your head, placing of the body, relaxed shoulders, putting one foot in front of the other. I think back to my ‘float’.  More accurately, I think to myself “Where’s your f***in float Hawkins?” and also “What would Colin say?”. That’s a whole other post in itself…

8. Be Kind to Yourself

If it has gone well, it doesn’t mean you are suddenly the greatest racer in a pair of shorts. If it has gone a bit wrong, it is not the end of the world. There are so many races out there, you’ve just got some valuable experience under your belt.

9. You think you can’t – You can

Most people are not natural racers, it can take years of practice. There is plenty of time to get it right.

I used to hate racing, but I’m growing to love it, one race at a time.

The Comedown

Well done, you’re reached the finish line. Your back has been slapped and the medal hung round your neck. The warm glow of achievement makes you feel all fuzzy for a few days and you get to relate tales of mid-race turmoil and heroics to friends and loved ones.

In the flush of excitement that comes with the completing of a big event, what is often forgotten is what happens when all the bunting is taking down and the race medals are safely packed away. A lot of people find themselves at a bit of a loss and you’ll often see sportspeople of all types hastily signing up to the next big challenge in an effort to counteract the low that often follows the finish line high.

I’ll be honest, it’s where I find myself currently, dear reader. I can readily admit to you that emotional steadiness is a bit of an alien concept at TrainandScoff Mansions (outdoor pool, room for a pony). From my earliest memories, I’ve always been a bit of a slave to emotions (something I think runs though the family). The ‘emotion volume dial’ is consistently turned right the way up to +1, or down to -11, without much in between. Don’t get me wrong, I love being happy, and the sound of laughter is one of the greatest things known to humankind, but teamed with that I’ve never been able to shake off a certain melancholia that strikes at the most inopportune moments. 

Melancholy is rubbish – also known as being a mardy git. You try and fight it, but you can feel yourself slip into the darkness. In my own case, it feels like a bit of colour drains from the world and everything is a bit monochrome. I’ve got tried and tested strategies to get out if it, mainly involving retreating into my introverted world, listening to my favourite songs which always, eventually, makes thing seem slightly better. Not particularly helpful for those around me, but it works.

One of the reasons that I took to running so readily what that it was one of the few activities that even-ed my head out. The physical act of pounding the pavements was the one time when my brain became quiet and I could approach the world with some sort of clarity. Maybe that’s why I didn’t take to rowing so readily - the melting pot that is the squad environment is hard to take for the emotionally fragile. It was only when I had the stability of a good crew around me that I found I was able to flourish.

Reading various blogs from runners and other sportspeople, it’s clear I’m not along in all this, and I’m sure if you’d ask most they wouldn’t exchange the highs and lows for a general medium for anything. The highs can be so damn good. So, so good that they become addictive, you find that you live for and chase those moments. Is that why people strive for ever bigger distances? I hope not, because what happens when even the longest ultra-race doesn’t give you the ‘kick’ you are after.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. As I get older I get better at finding coping mechanisms. I fight back. I don’t always win, but I try my hardest. If I’m being a bit quiet, it’s nothing personal , just working through ma-shit. Will be with you shortly.

A Memory Stirs

It was a post from running marvel and nicest-guy-you’ll-ever-meet Brad that did it. He mentioned running through his old school grounds and banishing demons.

I gripped the kitchen worktop as my head whirled and the ‘Nam-style flashbacks lined up to punch my brain like that scene in Full Metal Jacket. To say I hated PE at school would be an understatement. I truly detested PE at school.  Until the later years, when they would just shove a badminton racket I our hands and throw us in the gym, it was just a weekly lesson in humiliation.

I think I may still hold the record for the longest continuously in-growing toenail in School history.

I still remember turning up in horror one day to find that as we’d missed the mass race the week before, we had to run 1500m. There were three of us, basically the Top, Middle and bottom of the school hierarchy. I’d never run more than 10 years in my life. The PE teacher half snarled “I’m expecting three very different time from you three” and set us off. So I ran and ran and ran and after 200m found myself on my own miles back from the other two. Other kids were doing sports round the outside of the grass track we were running on. Seeing my lug my hefty bulk round the field caused hilarity all round. I’d never felt so humiliated and just wanted the ground to swallow me up (and give me a snack), so after 600m, yes you read that right 600m, I stopped with a ‘stitch’.

The other end of scale for my PE experiences was Cross-Country. Now my school was in the middle of a housing estate.  There was a big playing field (remember those) and absolutely NO HILLS. I only ever remember us doing ‘XC’ once and it involved running down the road to a teacher who was acting as a lamppost, back to the school round the playing fields and then repeat as a second lap. We all set off and I quickly found myself trailing at the back as usual, the distances seemed massive at the time but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of miles. I think I was lapped by the winners just as I was starting the second lap. I headed down to the teacher ‘lamppost’ and remember run/walking back with him towards the school; it would have been clear there was no one behind me. I think everyone was stretching off as I started my way around the playing fields. And I limped home in a time that I still remember was double the amount of time it took Kevin Harris (our year’s best runner) to do the same course. 

The reason I remember the XC though is that it was a positive memory in that I didn’t give u;. Yes I huffed and puffed, yes I was last, yes I walked most of it but I still finished. When we were all gathered afterwards, me still panting, (everyone else showered, changed, having had a double maths lesson….) we had to shout out our times. I actually felt pride in shouting out my impossibly slow time. It was the one and only time I posted a result in my school athletic career and nobody could take it away from me.

School PE isn’t Sport – It is crowd control. Until we tackle this we are destined to become a nation of ever more obese TV watchers. No one encouraged me to take part in sport at School, why would they? I was rubbish. But the lack of belief and knock of confidence those horrible days showered on me, it took another 15 years before I dared dip my toe into the sporty waters.

And the rest is history...

Fuck You PE, Fuck You.