Sub-2 Half Marathon!

I did it!  I've been dreaming of a sub 2 hour half marathon for a long time (in fact, that's exactly what I always thought it was, just a 'dream', something that I was maybe not being realistic about.)  I’m still having to pinch myself 24 hours after achieving it. 

It's really bugged me that I've come so close on my previous attempts, always putting in a thoroughly decent performance - but no cigar.  People would always say “well done” and reassure me that I would get the sub-2 “next time.”  I tried to believe them.  The trouble is, it's not like running a 5K or 10K where, if you narrowly miss out on a PB, you can just rock up and have another go tomorrow, or the day after that.  A half marathon is always knackering and you need time to properly recover from one attempt before you embark on another. I don't think I've ever finished one without thinking, "I'm not going to do that again in a hurry." 

Earlier this year I decided that I ought to deal with the unfinished business I have with the half.  As I mentioned in a previous post, I initially planned to do it properly and follow a training plan, but for various reasons that didn’t happen.  I had hoped to run a half to mark my birthday, so as we entered the month of May I decided that, despite the lack of training, I would have another stab at it.  I was a little bit concerned that I was yet again going to be winging it, going into it without having built up the distance gradually over a matter of weeks.  I run most days but nearly always stick to 5K, although I try to do a 10K each month and maybe 4 or 5 miles some Sundays.  I do know though, from my own experience, that as long as you have a good level of fitness, you can still get through a half.  The classic advice is to build up to at least 10 miles before you tackle a half but I do think there’s something to be said for keeping your legs fresh and not ‘over-training’ before the big day.

It’s not my birthday until the end of the month, but looking at the weather forecast for the next 10 days or so, it doesn't look exactly spring-like, so when yesterday turned out to be a decent sort of day, I decided to make the most of it.  Besides, we've just started out on the nightmare journey of getting a conservatory built and already, just a couple of days in, we've been hit with all sorts of unforeseen problems.  Even the very experienced builder has described it as one of the worst nightmares of his career.  Without going into details (because just thinking about it makes me despair - I can't even bear looking outside at the butchered garden), it has been a very stressful week, so the idea of running away, quite literally, was very appealing.  Funnily enough, it was a couple of years back, when we were having the kitchen put in, that I ventured out to do my very first half marathon distance.  The need to escape is a very good motivator.

It's a very strange May, weather-wise.  Yesterday morning, despite it being sunny, there was a lot of frost on the ground.  I had to wear my gloves, though I did end up taking them off after half an hour or so.  From a running point of view though, it was ideal weather.  Warm once you got moving but not so warm that you end up having to pour the contents of your water bottle over your head or gasping for a drink.  There was a bit of a breeze, just enough to keep me fresh, but not windy enough to feel like I was doing resistance band training.

I planned an out and back route along the Trans Pennine Trail, so a nice flat route. I took the outward leg quite steadily.  It’s quite a remote stretch and as I was alone, it felt quite an achievement to have been brave enough not to let my fear of being murdered get in the way of my running.  As I turned round for my return leg, I felt quite confident and happy because I know that it's a lot easier going that way.  However, once I'd been running for about 12-13K, I started to notice the fatigue creeping in.  Along with my non-existent training plan, I had adopted a characteristically half-arsed approach to fueling.  I’d had some Weetabix before setting out but the only ‘fuel’ I’d brought with me was one glucose tablet – all I had left – and one ‘Epic Sweet.’  I did have a small bottle of water with me and was quite strict about taking a swig every 5K.  (I should add here that there’s nothing particularly epic about the Epic Sweets, in my view.  Maybe, you need to have more than one.  I ordered them a few years ago on recommendation, thinking I was buying six small bags, but accidentally ordered six boxes, each containing seemingly hundreds of these revolting little balls of pure sugar.  I keep saying that one day, when organized races come back, I’m going to take all these boxes with me and dump them at the start line alone with a sign saying, ‘Please help yourself.’)  Anyway, I had a little sugar fix.  Maybe it helped or maybe it was just a psychological thing, but I managed to keep going without becoming too heavy legged.  

As usual though, the last 3 miles of a half, the so called 'only a parkrun' were an absolute killer.  I don't know whether there is any way round this really.  Perhaps this is where people really do feel the benefits of having trained properly and fueled properly.  It didn't help that my headphones ran out of charge at around this point, just when I could have done with some uplifting music, but to be honest, I was probably beyond paying attention to music by this stage.  No way was I giving up at this point, but it was really, really hard.  I didn't look at my watch at all so had no idea how I was doing time-wise.  I think when you're in the final death throes of a half, you really do just want to finish it any old how and you don't give a stuff about your time. By the time I got to 19K, I was getting a little stiffness/twinge in my thigh and I really hoped I wouldn't be stricken with cramp.  Luckily it didn't develop.  On my last kilometer I played the 'alphabet game' (going through the alphabet and thinking of a boy’s and girl’s name for each letter), probably the dullest game on earth, but it is better than nothing when you just to have a few minutes more to endure and need to distract yourself from the agony. 

Finally, finally, my watch buzzed.  I ran a bit extra, knowing Strava has a habit of short-changing you if you don't, and then when I saw my time, I was absolutely over the moon.  A new half marathon PB of 1 hour 59 minutes and 8 seconds!  Get in!  I suppose a non-runner would say it was as near to 2 hours as makes no difference but of course a runner knows that those few seconds make all the difference in the bloody world.  I had done it!  I had knocked over 3 minutes off my previous best time.  I had done what I thought I might never achieve and at the ripe old age of (very nearly) 54. 

Now I feel like I've settled my score with the half.  I'm not saying I won't ever run one again, but when I do I won’t care what time I get because I can always say that I ran a sub-2.  Even if it was a one-off, I don’t care.  As everyone knows, if it's on Strava, it happened!  It doesn’t bother me at all that it wasn’t an official race with an official finishing medal.  In some ways I think I’m even prouder of the fact that I ran it all on my own without a support crew or any water stations and cheering crowds.  It takes a special kind of strength and determination to do that.

Not bad for someone who always thought of herself as an indoors kind of girl!  I need these feel-good vibes because my garden still looks like a badly ploughed field and I’m constantly worried one of the cats will fall into the huge trench where the patio used to be.  If ever we needed proof of the benefits of running for good mental health, this is it.  I dread to think what I would be doing to deal with all this stress if I wasn't a runner.  So, I'm still absolutely buzzing and it feels like this year my birthday really has come early.  I still hate halves though.  I really do.