I have been wondering whether to update my blog with a race report on the very marvelous Grindleford Gallop, but it has been so long since I have published anything about running that I was worried about being accused of breaking my silence only to blow my own trumpet.
But, I reassured myself (read: kidded myself) that I needed an account of the race on file to look back on in previous years. More of a training log than a racing blog. Blah blah. If I was as smart with technology as my youngest daughter I would insert some animated gif thingy here of a bald bloke blowing his own trumpet.
It's not that I haven't been motivated to update the blog mind - I've done all kinds of exciting running stuff and experienced some highs (2nd at Clowne Half Marathon in November with a new PB and a decent day out at the National XC Champs) and some real lows (dragging myself around Yorkshire XC, rubbish running at the XC Berry Park relays, and having a pretty crap Percy Pud 2015 too).
Clowne HM - cutting it fine with 1:14:57
The thing that has stopped me updating my blog has been how crazy and busy life gets when (a) the kids are at big school and taking control of their own lives (which ironically means they need you to ferry them about, find their missing socks, and listen to their tortuously long stories about school girl bickering); and, (b) work is frankly nuts and any evening writing time is spent on endless papers about the state of the domiciliary care market in Sheffield. If I was more awake, I would find a link from home care to running. But I can't think of one that is publishable.
Anyway - the run up to the race...
The Yorkshire Champs XC in early January was a pretty sorry experience - I weighed in at around 72kg and felt the excesses of Xmas with every laboured splodge through the ever deepening, claggy mud. I watched people who I consider to be peers disappear ahead into the distance, and I found myself running with people who I have not run side-by-side with for a year or two. I even fell on my arse in front of the crowds.
I had purposefully rested over Xmas and stopped worrying about diet etc - but it was clearly time to pull myself together and start planning for the next challenge. I set my sights on the National Veterans' XC on March 13th. The idea being that I would go and have a proper pop at this race, which acts as a kind of qualifier for international vet selection. Basically, I wanted to assess how far off I would be next year of securing an England XC vest as a V45 newbie in 2017.
The first thing I focused on was food. Weight makes a massive difference to me. I know it is a sensitive subject for many, but if you're serious about running faster, then carrying excess useless fat around is not a good idea. I have blogged on this subject before so I won't go into detail here. Suffice to say that after 80 days of logging every item of food and maintaining daft amount of discipline, I was back down to race weight.
I also stepped up my training. With half an eye on lowering my half marathon PB again in May, and half the other eye on my 2:45 pace-making duties at London Marathon in April, I decided to major on ramping up the mileage and getting longer threshold runs in. I knew that I would probably be better prepared for the short 5-mile Vets XC Champs with more shorter track work, but I decided to introduce this gradually in Feb once I had got my strength and base fitness back up a bit.
Everything was going well by mid-February - weekly mileage was back up around 70, and I was particularly enjoying my weekly Tuesday 10 mile threshold run with John D (and a revolving cast of other SRC runners prepared to do 10 miles in 60 minutes around Attercliffe on a cold Tuesday evening). The regular long Sunday group runs with marathon training running mates was also a good session (15 - 20 miles at 6:40 pace being typical).
Then disaster struck: A mistake in our calendar meant that we had not spotted that my target Vets XC Champs race in March clashed with our youngest daughter Isla's theatre group production of Alice in Wonderland. Isla had been rehearsing for the play for months
I am sure that in the 1980s, I would have been booking the hotel in Bath regardless, and patting Isla on the head and telling her that I would look forward to hearing all about it, but it's 2016 and men are apparently now allowed to prioritise their families above their running exploits. And it was fun anyway - Isla's the tallest pink haired dancer in the video here.
To be honest, I had also spotted the silver lining - the opportunity to defend my title at Grindleford Gallop on the 12th. I had won and really enjoyed the Gallop last year during my run up to the London Marathon. The distance (21 miles), terrain (trail and a bit of fell), and the feel of the race (friendly with lots of cake at the end) seemed to really suit me.
So, I switched target races and started planning my title defence at the Gallop. Although I had limited time to study the entry list and stalk the entrants on runbritain, I spotted a few major threats...
First up was Stephen Pope from Totley AC who I knew from local races and from the Gallop in 2014 when he absolutely flew past me during mile 3 only to go the wrong way down Monsal Trail during mile 9 and then get kicked in the jaw by a horse on the climb out of Baslow. I thought Stephen would have the edge on me but I fancied making a race of it.
Second was Steve Franklin, also from Totley AC, who had kept me company in 2015 but had faded after mile 14 when I wound it up a bit. Steve had beat me at the Yorkshire XC by a good two minutes, and I knew that he had been putting in more mileage this year. Another obvious threat.
Third was Matthew Battensby from Bristol AC (damn his local connections). Matthew had won the last couple of Eyam Half Marathons and had some decent recent race times including a 32:00 10km. I was pretty resigned to finishing behind Matthew - whilst hoping that he got lost obviously!
Fourth, and most intimidating, was Tim Hartley, a ridiculously talented veteran runner from Notts AC / Barrow. An article on Tim on the Highgate Harriers website does a better job than I can here of setting out just how good he is. Tim had beaten me by well over 2 minutes at the Nationals XC (finishing alongside some sub-31 minute 10km runners and 2nd V45 to Ian Hudspith) and is still knocking 5km in low 15 minutes. I was expecting to lose to Tim, although I was wondering how his stamina would last out given his focus on relatively shorter races.
Race Day
In a welcome repeat of last year, I shared a car to Grindleford with Helen Pickford, who was planning on having a decent go at the 3 hour barrier. I warmed up gently on the field, said hello to a few familiar faces, and sought out a suitable bush (400 runners and 4 portaloos is not an equation I could balance).
On the start line, I couldn’t see Stephen Pope anywhere, but
I chatted to Steve F and Matthew B, who was sporting a matching pair of Saucony
Kinvara Trail shoes. I explained that my Kinvaras had got more comfortable when
the holes appeared above my big toes. Typical pre-race nervous babble. I chose
not to brag that my Kinvaras had won every race they had run – including last
year’s gallop, two gruesome twosomes, the Penistone Hill Race, and the
Midsummer Dash. Not major races, but not a bad record for a pair of shoes
approaching retirement.
The race started as chaotically as ever with 400 runners doing the mad dash to the narrow stream crossing. I got through the gap
and into the fields with reasonably dry feet and in the top ten or so. I was
slipping all over the bloody place though – the ground was definitely soggier
than last year and I was losing places as we went up the muddy bank. I knew
that my super-lightweight kinvaras would be great once we got on the trails,
but they were not coping with the mud at all.
My plan was to run the first 15 miles at marathon effort and
see if I could stay near the leaders, and then attempt to switch up to half
marathon effort through Chatsworth and on the beast of a climb out of Baslow. My hope was that my endurance would get me home in a decent position and give me a shout of a top 3 if the speedy competition didn't get too much of a lead on me.
The first mile went by in around 6:40 and a decent group of
us hit the bottom of the first monster climb together. This climb is where the
over enthusiastic / deluded runners typically drop away, and as we got half way
up the hill I was in a breakaway pack that I would spend most of the race with – Steve
F looking as strong as ever, Matthew B looking young, fresh and fast
(particularly on the tarmac and descents), and Tim Hartley who seemed comfortable as anything. Around 30 metres behind was a strong looking bloke in
a green t-shirt who I didn’t know (turned out to be Wayne Bulcroft - an infrequent racer fresh from a 1:15 half at Brass Monkey in January).
I was tipping a few bpm over my marathon heart rate (147bpm)
going up the latter half of the hill and I was wary of the advice I had
received from Gallop veterans about how many people ruin their race on the
first climb. But, I felt comfortable so I rolled with it.
As the leading pack coasted down the hill to the first
checkpoint in Eyam, everyone looked really comfortable. I got to the dibber
first and glanced at my watch – we were about 30 seconds faster than last year. Fine with that - felt good and I knew I was a bit fitter this time.
The pack stayed together up the climb out of Eyam towards
the moors – swapping the lead regularly. After about 4 miles I tried to avoid a
deep puddle on a gravelly farm track by running up a muddy bank, but I slipped
badly, banged my knee, elbow, and the side of my head, and ended up sat on my arse in the puddle. So much for trying to keep my feet dry. Matthew B gave me a hand up and I ran on more embarrassed than hurt. The
dribble of blood down my knee would look good in the photos I thought.
I took a gel at mile 5 at the same location as the previous
year – I didn’t want it, but the Gallop is all about having fuel in the
tank for the last few miles and I had decided to copy my nutrition plan from
last year when I finished strongly. Sip of water at each checkpoint, gel at mile 5, caffeinated gel at miles 11 and 16, and a gel on Froggat edge at 19 miles so I didn't bonk down the steep descent to the finish and break my legs.
During the fields and (many) stiles up towards Longstone
Moor, the pack rotated around regularly. I got the feeling everyone was waiting
to push on, and that Matthew and Tim were holding back because they were
nervous about the distance, or, more likely because they needed to stay with
people who knew the route well. Tim had already nearly gone the wrong way twice
whilst in the lead.
note photo credit - sportsunday
We passed through checkpoint 2 in 41:38 - about 80 seconds faster than last year. I checked my average heart rate for the last mile - late 140s - and reassured myself that I could keep that level of effort up for two and a half hours. So I relaxed and pushed on.
As we crested Longstone Edge at mile 7 and turned right towards checkpoint 3, I was properly enjoying myself - a sure sign that I was not over-exerting. The view was absolutely spectacular as the sun broke through the mist over the valley, and the front pack was moving nicely together over a very runnable wide grass path. Steve F had set the pace over the moor, but Tim was now increasingly at the front of the pack. We dibbed at checkpoint 3 and turned left down the steep descent towards Longstone village. At this point Matthew B's young legs moved him to the front as we started to make some rapid progress at around 5:20 pace.
I was now almost exactly 2 minutes up on last year's time when I had finished about 20 seconds outside the course record. I was increasingly confident that I would break the course record this year, but the burning question was how many others would do the same? Nobody seemed at all fatigued after 8 miles or so of hard work.
As we ran through Longstone I felt strong and pushed the pace a bit towards the Monsal Trail - taking Tim with me. I hit the trail a few seconds ahead of Tim with Wayne, Steve and Matthew a few seconds behind. Strava flyby captures the moment nicely (Tim is the monkey)! I had a nasty bit of stitch developing from the hard descent but it wasn't bothering me too much.
photo credit Jonathan Nason
The Monsal Trail is 2.5 miles of boredom but it is easy running and has a slight descent. TIm took the lead for most of the trail and pushed on. I was monitoring my heart rate regularly to make sure I wasn't getting too excited, and was pleased to be holding around 143bpm at a comfortably hard 5:40ish pace. I lost a bit of time at the checkpoint dibbing and having a drink, but Tim and I had now built up a 10 second gap. I followed Tim down the last half mile of the trail as he pushed on pretty hard, and we opened up a 15 second gap on the others. I wondered whether this was the moment that Tim would go for it - 9 miles to the finish. I also wondered whether I would shout out if Tim missed the right turning behind Bakewell station. Thankfully he saw the sign and turned right so I avoided a test of my morals (I think I might have failed)!
The muddy climb up to the back of Chatsworth is unrunnable in places so I had my planned caffeinated gel during a quick walking break. As I got about half way up I spotted Wayne, Matthew and Steve passing Tim and I over to the left. No idea still how I made such a daft mistake but we'd gone the wrong way! Tim scrambled across to join their path, but I suspected that the path I was on would finish in about the right place so I stayed on it and eventually found a rough trail that linked back to the route without too much fuss. Still we had lost the 15 second cushion and fallen a further 25 seconds behind - one little mistake, 40 seconds lost, shit! I could see Wayne was now setting the pace with Steve at the front.
It took me about a quarter of a mile to close the gap on the leaders, and then without really thinking about it, I just continued the momentum, grabbing a 10 second lead by the time we hit 13 miles and turned out of the fields onto the trail down towards the fields at the back of Edensor. I didn't realise at the time, but strava flyby shows that the chasing pack closed the lead back down to around 5 seconds as we flew down the muddy field towards the steep steps down onto the chatsworth estate. However, a reckless descent down the steps and a lucky break with the traffic on the road meant I soon regained my 10 second cushion. As I hit the congested gravel trails through Chatsworth - I felt determined if a bit tired, so I decided to have a go at seeing who had the legs after 15 miles for a hard mile. I pushed up to around 5:50 pace and set my sights on building a lead and getting a sweet drink and another gel at Baslow checkpoint.
looking pleased with the breakaway - photo credit: Jonathan Nason
By the time I got out of Chatsworth, Matthew and Tim had hit the wall and were around 2 minutes behind, Steve had responded to the increased pace but was still around 50 seconds behind, and Wayne was about 20 seconds behind Steve. I took a swig of sweet squash at the Baslow checkpoint, squeezed down a caffeinated gel, and dashed a little recklessly across the road towards the pig of a 1.5 mile climb out of Baslow towards the Eagle Stone on the edge.
I saw Mike Sport spectating early on in the climb and asked him how big the gap was - he said he couldn't see anyone and then corrected himself when Steve came into view. I reckoned I had got about 40 and 60 seconds lead with 5 miles to go. I settled into a hard effort and pushed up the hill - only slowing down to give a horse a wide berth. By the time I got to the Eagle Stone I had wobbly legs but I was on my own and had a 2 minute lead - having broken the segment record I set last year by about 20 seconds.
I recovered pretty quickly and ran hard along the edge, taking care not to do anything daft with my legs, which were threatening cramp whenever they were asked to do anything vaguely awkward. I squeezed down my final gel and concentrated on running freely and keeping my average pace for mile 19 below 6-minute mile pace - I was pretty confident that my lead was too big at this stage to get caught, so I had started to concentrate on making sure I broke the course record.
The descent down off the edge and into Grindleford was as daft as ever, but I felt strong as I the trail flattened out and I picked up the pace to finish the last half mile at around 5:30 pace. I dibbed in to clock 2:22:24 - beating the course record of 2:24:32 set in 2010.
I sat on a chair near the finishing line feeling pretty pleased with myself whilst chatting to the brilliant marshals and volunteers. I waited to see whether Steve had held 2nd and was pleased to see him coming over the bridge a few minutes later. Wayne followed a couple of minutes later with Darren King having a typically strong finish to grab 4th. Tim and Matthew finished 10th and 12th respectively.
After eating some soup and absolutely tonnes of cake, I cheered Helen breaking 3 hours, collected my vouchers, and returned home in the mood for a few beers. Thankfully the bar was open at the theatre showing Isla's stage production and they had bradfield brewery stout in chilled bottles. What a result - I'll take 3 of them in with me please!
