Bourton One Mile Challenge

The day had come. For many people this might have seemed utterly ridiculous, travelling over two and a half hours to run a race that would be over in five minutes give or take. Yet for me this was a big deal. A really big deal. It wasn’t about club records or standard times. It was about me being able to run a mile in a race (not headfirst down a big hill) in under five minutes. Along with a sub three hour marathon, this is one of my two ultimate running ambitions and I stated as much three or four years ago when I wrote my bio piece for the club website and despite achieving quite a lot in the meantime, I had yet to realise either of my two most important and highly held ambitions.

Mile races seem hard to come by. In the four and a half years that I have been running I had done three in total. I ran this one in 2016 but was somewhat undercooked and I finished in 5:14. Not too far off in some ways but you can run a long way in 14 seconds at speed and in percentage terms it was way off. The course was perfect though. Fast, straight, flat, free from hazards and with a decent standard of runner – a county Championship race I believe but open to all. There were markers every quarter mile and finished slap bang in the middle of the prettiest village in the Cotswolds with a good crowd of Middle-Englanders to cheer you home.

I thought it would make a good road trip for a few of us. There are a few in the club who would be quicker than me over the distance, Danny, Ryan, Chris, Damo for example, but the race coincided with a club curry night so once again I was alone. My warm up was a slow two miles and I was as nervous as I can remember for a long, long time. This year the race experimented with chip timing although it failed and they resorted to manual back up. The problem this gave me was at the start. The race is run on the left hand side of the main road which is closed to traffic for 15 minutes. I could drop back in the pack but get a rolling start over the timing mat, alternatively, I could get upfront, avoid congestion but suffer a standing start. I ended up with the worst of both worlds, walking over the start line four rows back and getting hampered by slower runners early on.

I had planned my strategy long before, despite not having done much in the way of speed training. In an ideal world, I’d have got myself down the athletics track every week for six weeks and re-train myself how to “hang on” and “keep pedalling” but marathon demands and feet issues put paid to that. Besides, I wasn’t trying to master the distance – simply run a mile in less than five minutes. I managed 5:01 in Nottingham in 2014 – I felt this was my opportunity now despite my lack of expertise over the distance. The more you race a distance, the better you get at it tactically, same as anything in life really. I was an experienced runner but an utter novice over a mile. The plan was to run even paced the whole way. 0.2 miles per minute, 5 minute miles, 1:15 per quarter mile. The latter guide was the easiest to use as the race organisers conveniently marked out each quarter mile point with a bollard. Constantly looking down at your watch in such a frenetic race was out of the question. I had to hit five minute mile pace, which is fine, but then hold it, which is the difficult part!

After a delayed start and an unwanted build up of nerves as well as the worry that my warm up was now 25 minutes ago did little to ease my worry. It was slightly too warm and there were 15 mph headwinds. Not ideal but hopefully of little consequence over such a short distance. That said, when the margins as so fine, every second could well count. I wheeled out my lightweight racers. I didn’t want to batter my feet but I looked at it as five minutes of punishment for the ultimate reward. We were off and I got into my stride, barging through two runners inadvertently blocking me by running side by side. After thirty seconds, there was a bit of space to work in and my pace was too quick. I hit the first checkpoint a second up – good news but that was the easiest quarter of the race. The next three would have rolling starts in effect but I would have progressively more tired legs.

One glance at my watch in the second quarter indicated my pace had dropped slightly. This was ok as I had consciously tried to ease off from the unsustainable 4:40 opening salvo. At half way I was a second over but in control so long as I didn’t tie up late on. It was now starting to hurt. Maintaining the pace was a real effort but I kept thinking in terms of time. “Only two minutes left” and “take your chance now because it could be a long wait before the next opportunity” were mantras I’d replay in my mind. Everything seemed to happen so quickly, decision making had to be instant or else the moment was gone. Give me a half marathon or 10K any day for ease of thought processes. I desperately sought out the 3/4 marker point as my next goal. I couldn’t see it. This was going to hurt! I eventually got there and was running behind schedule by two to three seconds. At this point in a race, you calculate whether to consolidate and take a lower ranked goal, in this case a course PB, or push on regardless no matter what the consequences. I had no choice. I had to run 400 metres (ish) in 72 seconds on tired legs. I wasn’t going to die wondering.

A triathlete hared past me with calves like you wouldn’t believe. They were bigger than his thighs! I tried to go with him but the explosive change of pace you can find when fresh wasn’t readily there. I had to wind it up. My legs were devoid of energy but I told myself to just keep turning my legs over faster and faster and faster. I bet it looked stylistically awful but I didn’t give a monkeys. Nobody knew me here anyway. I thought back to all the track sessions Damo and I did at Nuneaton where I would be hanging on in the last 70-80 metres trying to catch him or avoid being caught. You would be surprised how deep you can dig at times. Now I had to really dig. I passed a few runners and finally saw the finish area. It was probably a minute away but I had to keep winding it up and give it everything from here on in.

There was no point looking at my watch now, I just had to concentrate on going as fast as I could, keeping a high tempo, a quick leg turnover and fast rhythm. The crowd now came into play. “Come on Badgers!” I heard someone cry. That helped. There was a timing clock at the finish line. My eyesight isn’t the best, even with my contact lenses in but by the time I could read it, the time said 4:52 with around say 25 metres to go. I knew I’d done it. I ran through the line utterly spent but deeply satisfied. Like Alan Partridge, I was self congratulating in my own little world, out loud too, but I did not care! The huge-calved bloke in front of me was happy, he thought he’d got 4:53. I got 4:57 on my watch and was less than a second behind him! It didn’t matter, I’d got my time (4:56 officially) although it turned out later that he picked up some prize-money as the first V40 runner back which was annoying because I think I could have reeled him in had I needed to. Once I knew I’d got my time, I was done.  Shouldn’t be greedy though, I thought, I had what I came for. I reckon I could run 4:50 with the right training though!

Bourton is a beautiful place and I pottered around for an hour waiting for the prize-giving ceremony. I had a warm down, an ice cream and some sandwiches. It would just have been nice to have shared the moment with someone. The awards were a real treat. Plenty of prizes although none for me. I placed 10th. The race organiser outdid himself by scoring an unenviable hat-trick of own goals in the form of casual racism, homophobia and sexism during his waffle. It was as though he fell asleep watching the summer special of “On the Buses” and woke up not realising it was 2017!

I was absolutely buzzing all the way home. This probably meant more to me than any other race I had participated in and with over 220 to my name that is good going. If I wasn’t so exhausted afterwards, I think my 2013 Chester Marathon might have come close to matching the feeling but you are very tired for a long time after a marathon, but other than that this was as good as it got. Actually, I was buzzing similarly when I helped Karen get her time at Manchester too but ultimately that was her race not mine. A minute or two after the mile I felt pretty much fine. The biggest difference between mile and marathon is the pain at the time is much more intense on the mile but thankfully much more short-lived. I had come a long way since the day I tried running a mile from my house when I got my first GPS watch. I ran 6:10 the first time I tried and when I followed it up a week later, I got to 0.9 miles and had to stop because I had blown up!

All this means is that the marathon is now the holy grail. I have recorded personal bests at every distance this season except marathon. Berlin is the goal. One chance. I am smashing my fundraising thanks to some very kind hearted friends. I just need to do them (and myself) justice on the day. So now we train!

Making up for lost time

Collecting the V40 prize at Whissendine

Enjoying some Rutland Beast with Judy Parkes

Hungarton 7 from the air

On the march in the Skirlaugh 8. Better backdrops were available.

 

Meeting Ben Shepherd post race. It made Bev’s day but she was too shy to ask him for a photo!

After two weeks of resting my blister and hammering the miles on Matt’s road bike, the day had arrived for me to test out my foot, the day prior to the Hungarton 7. Matt’s bike has been a godsend for me at times and I was fortunate enough to take advantage of some lovely summer afternoons to take in the sights of our lovely surroundings whilst unable to run. I have my own bike, a mountain bike, but it’s not as fast and it requires more effort which is one of the reasons why cycling is not as pure a sport as running. The equipment matters too much.

Two runs either side of work gave me sufficient confidence that my foot would survive the attritions of Hungarton, a challenging and hilly 7 miler. I gave both a bit of welly. I didn’t want to not finish at Hungarton and felt hopeful that my fitness hadn’t waned much due to my bike riding. The race itself was strange in so much as I went into it with no plan other than to do the best I could. In a way, this took some pressure off but sometimes the drawback is that you lack the motivation to perform at your best. I ran to how I felt, which was liberating, and in my training shoes too, having decided to protect my feet from now on by avoiding my lightweight racers to protect my feet running up to Berlin (marathon). No doubt, this costs some time, how much is hard to say, but having achieved my times this season at each distance bar marathon and mile, I was happy to make this compromise.

I had half an eye on a top three finish in the league’s veteran category but again decided to compromise this ambition to a degree. The race went pretty well. There was a bit of rustiness in me but not a lot. I was too far behind the runners ahead to challenge at the end but ran strongly to move away from the advancing Simon Mayes who was gaining on me with a mile to. I should have been a bit braver with a mile to go but I’m still learning this game – I finished 19th out of 575 in 42:30 and came away satisfied.

It’s the furthest we travel for a league race and bizarrely, two days later, we were back out that way, to Whissendine in Rutland, for a six mile race. I did it two years ago on my own and felt it would be a great event to be involved with again, especially with team-mates to share the thrill. It’s a lovely village with its own windmill! Around 20 of us went along and we were joined in the race by none other than TV star Ben Shepherd. In 2015, I was chasing a time although forgot to take my watch. This year was just for fun and for some reason the course appeared hillier than I remember. I ran reasonably well, or so I thought, but could not stay with any of the leaders. Aaron ran superbly and was not far behind me in the end while Ryan was back to his best and grabbed second with another strong second half of the race. My time was reasonable at 35:48 but by no means exceptional. Maybe my shoe choice is worth another 30 seconds but quite frankly, I don’t care!

The race is fun. We all got a smart glass and free bottle of Rutland Beast dark ale. I had a few given it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea! There was a variety of events on in the village that week and the run was a fitting conclusion on the Friday night, finishing on the village green with a barbecue, packed pub up the road with live music and an all round friendly vibe. There was a scarecrow competition and Ben Shepherd (who I beat by about 16 minutes) was great, posing for photos and offering to wear a Badgers vest, without ever being full of himself. I collected the V40 prize as top veteran and some nice boxed glassware as a memento.

Now confident my feet were stronger, I needed to increase my mileage and start getting some long runs in. Berlin is not that far away and while I didn’t feel the need to begin a training plan of sorts, it was important to add in key parts with two months to go. I planned to start on Sunday distance wise. My niece’s Christening and hot weather dictated an early start and while I planned to run 15, I managed 13.1 before getting home. Probably a good idea in hindsight, it was particularly muggy. I managed a sub 90 half inclusive of a two and a half minute sprint section a mile in, but one of the biggest mistakes I always advise against is trying to do too much too soon. Build things up in small increments, distances and such like. There is less chance of injury that way.

I missed a couple of fun runs that day but I did not mind. The next week was mapped out for me and I had two goals. The first was to travel to Hull and run the Skirlaugh 8 in the hope of taking my club record below 50 minutes and run a nice event well after failing to do so in 2016. 8 mile races are desperately thin on the ground and if I wanted to record a PB over every distance in 2017 then this was a must do race! It is a local league race but open to all so attracting a good standard of runner. Dave was coming too for a PB of his own so the journey would undoubtedly be funny if nothing else. The other goal was at the weekend when I would be undertaking the Bourton on the Water mile race that again I did last year when not fully fit. My long held goal is to go below 5 minutes but the mile is a tricky discipline to master. More of that in due course.

The 8 mile race was as good a race as I’d had for some time. My plan was to run at 6 minute miles, the weather was near perfect and the course a very flat one. Some heavy rain had left the roads a little wet but the temperature and wind conditions were ideal. Once again, I wore my heavier 325 gram shoes as opposed to my 180 gram racers but I stuck well to the task in hand lying in 9th/10th after a mile. I moved up to 8th by half way and felt pretty strong. It’s not uncommon for me to switch off mentally about two-thirds into a race but today I seemed fully focussed, strange given the intense stresses back at home over the preceding weeks. I wasn’t looking back and I had my sights set on two runners in yellow up the road who were a good 40 seconds in front. They were running together which would help them but did not help me but I clung to the hope that one of them might falter and I could pick him off.

If I could get the gap down by ten seconds a mile, the finish would be very close indeed. This worked well for two miles before I was caught by a City of Hull runner who breezed past me at a rare old rattle, no mean feat as I was running progressively quicker myself. I stuck with him for a few minutes as he inadvertently helped me bridge the gap to the guys in front but I couldn’t stay with him. He soon caught and passed them moving into 6th where he finished. I couldn’t see far enough up the road to the higher positions.

The final mile was soon upon me and it was do or die or so I thought. I was gaining but my fear was that seeing me would galvanise the duo into life and they would kick home. I thought the best tactic was to try and sneak past quietly, goodness knows why! I felt I had a short sprint in me if needed but not necessarily a long one. With about 400m to go I drew level and powered past the pair. Luckily, there was no challenge. One lad was frothing at the mouth like he had rabies while the other guy, from Bridlington, seemed stuck in gear. They had both gone. I’d climbed to seventh and finished in 47:12, over three minutes off my old record. The most pleasing aspect for me was that I ran the race targeting runners ahead rather than worrying about who was behind. This forward thinking and positive mind-set has been missing of late and is, I believe, a crucial plank of success.

Dave wasn’t far behind at all. I had barely caught my breath when he came home strongly. Shouting at himself like a Mockney Alan Partridge, he beat his PB by seven seconds, reduced to one upon receipt of the official results somehow! My watch time was bang on suggesting Dave had timing issues at the start. Either that or he borrowed Chris Baxter’s Fisher Price watch! The results also revealed I had won some money by virtue of being the first V40 runner back. A nice bonus.

As well as the mile race, this weekend promises to be a busy one. I have a long run scheduled Sunday morning followed by the annual Martin Plackett memorial cricket match that I organise to raise money for prostate cancer and keep Martin’s memory alive. I lost both my grandfathers to prostate cancer and Martin died too aged 67 from the same. All three were very positive role models for me in their own ways so it is nice to be able to try to put something back. Martin was a much loved and highly respected player, chairman, umpire, clubman at Atherstone Cricket Club and a good influence on me when I took up the sport aged 12 years old. I am also running the Berlin marathon for the same cause and have not long set up my just giving page if anyone feels they would like to sponsor me for this worthy cause http://www.justgiving.com/chrishorton2017 Thanks