Bliddy Heck!

After the depression/resignation of Friday I contemplated sacking the Coniston 14+ (so called because it's longer than 14 miles...) and cycling over to the Lakes instead.  However a brisk westerly breeze put paid to that idea, as the thought of flogging up numerous hills into the wind was even more depressing than the thought of not running Coniston.

So more in hope than expectation I packed my stuff, including my number and timing chip and set off westwards, thinking that at least I'd get a few beers in Ulverston to drown my sorrows.  My calf was feeling a lot better, which suggests that 24 hours rest does it good, but even so I was expecting the tightness to return as soon as I started the warm-up.  Once I'd arrived at the school field, I did a few strides on the grass and felt...not a sausage.  Convinced that this was some kind of con-trick by my devious calf I decided to trap it into a reaction by running down the road for a wee (note to readers - one of the key skills of the experienced runner is to know where the Secret Toilets are - there's some at every race.  In this case they're down the road at the Bluebird Caff car park).

Still no reaction.  Very odd.  By this time Hinsley had arrived belching Cumberland Sausage from every orifice having just troughed a large breakfast, so once I'd given him directions to the Secret Toilets I thought I'd better get ready to race.  Number on, chip attached and race plan negotiated with Hinsley - 7:20 pace (which is 3:15 MP) to 14 miles then we'd see how we felt.

We started from way further back than we normally would, and the first mile was uphill and gentle at about 7:50.  No reaction from the calf, and breathing easy.  We held this pace for the first 9 miles, and it was really enjoyable - easy running, chatting away, enjoying the jelly babies a nice lady gave us near Lowick.  During mile 9 Rich started to slow a bit, as he's a bit short of mileage, so after giving him a gel to keep him going I pushed on, somewhere around the 10 1/2 mile mark.  I didn't want to overdo it, but I soon found myself running at about 6:40 pace and still feeling ok - and of course the joy of this sort of race strategy is you pass dozens and dozens of people.

I'm afraid I even descended into some sort of twat-persona near Brantwood where a guy shouted "Looking strong, Ilkley!" and I replied with "Feelin' gooood!".  I don't know what got into me...

I'm glad I was "feelin' goood" because the organisers had kindly put a sign saying "Normal Finish" at around the 14 mile mark, which is the running equivalent of Jim Bowen's "Look what you could have won" on Bullseye - Hinsley admitted to being a tad irritated by it, particularly as a glance to the left at that point meant you could see the finish across the other side of the lake.

Anyway, I was miling at something 6:40 or quicker, apart from the pull up past Thurston and Low Bank Ground where it dropped to just over 7, but then I managed a 6:10 on the descent.  I definitely started to feel the lack of training in the last mile or so, but I held the pace to finish in 1:59:15 on the chip, 30 seconds slower on the gun.

Having got home today I checked out the photos taken by Mick Hall, and as expected I look something of a nob with one of my compression socks up and one down, but I do look to be enjoying myself:

Very, very pleased to have got round, to have broken 2 hours and particularly with how easy 7:20 pace felt - I think 3:15 might well be a goer.  My calf was sore last night after the race but it's calmed right down again today, so some heavy-duty anti-inflamms from the GP on Wednesday when I go to get my referral to Martyn, a bit of a rub down from John Fizzy tomorrow and a few days of taking it easy should hopefully see me in decent nick in a fortnight.