Tom Roper's Running Training

The Horsham 10k: running to the sound of peacocks

The Horsham 10k is, with the Barns Green half, of the two races in the Sussex Grand Prix that I have never run, so I took myself to Horsham Rugby Club on a fine, not too hot, Sunday morning. Lining up for the start, I saw that there were pacers for 50 and 55 minutes, each holding a silver helium balloon with the time written on it. A nice and unusual touch for a 10k. I thought I might try to stay with the 55 minute pacer, but it was not to be. I kept up for the first 3k, but began to lose her on the hills. 

The race starts with a circuit of the rugby field, and then heads out on the road, then along a bridleway and a country lane, before a tour of the suburbs of Horsham, and then round again for a second lap. On the second lap, its harder, and the hills which seemed easy enough on the first lap, become more difficult. More and more runners passed me, though I kept my pace steady. Towards the end, as I slogged uphill towards the rugby club, I heard the cries of peacocks from behind a wall, like the screams of the damned in the lowest circle of hell. 

Then into the rugby club for the finish. My fellow Striders did well. I haven’t seen full results yet, but I understand Josh Rudd came sixth overall. 

Running the Bewl 15 with the Seaford Sliders

Any run that ends with cake, a brass band, and beer, has to be worth entering. As I limped back up the lane, in the company of another runner who revealed herself to be the Assistant Race Director, I remarked on this. 

In retrospect, the difficulties diminish in importance. After a run of dry sunny days, Sunday began with rain, heavy at times, and the course was difficult. I ran the race last in 2009, when the sandy soil around Bewl Water was dry and dusty, so that runners ahead raised clouds like the posse in a Western. This was rather different. An innovation is the use of chip timing, less important to slowcoaches like me who use calendars rather than watches to log the duration of our runs, but definitely useful for the fast ones, at a race with a crowded start like Bewl. 

Led by a piper, we walked down to the start. I sheltered under some trees, until it was time, and we lined up for the start, filling the narrow lane. No sooner had we started than the scale of the problem became clear. The sandy surface had become, with the persistent rain, treacherous. We slid our way through the first few miles. indeed a witty fellow runner asked me if my vest should not read Seaford Sliders, rather then Seaford Striders. We pressed on. The rain stopped at around five miles, and we could enjoy the views, as we went into woods and out again in clearings on the banks of Bewl Water. I saw grebes and heard fish jumping. At around mile ten, the route heads inland, for a gruelling series of hills. By now I was being passed by thin runners, fat runners, men, women, younger and older than me. As we neared the final miles, other runners had the benefit of coaches who came to encourage them on. Their encouragement was not always well received. I pressed on, painfully slow, but still running. I’d rather run slowly than walk. 

 

I had decided to enter this race back in January; it was to be my longest race of the year. I finished. The marshals and supporters were splendid. I shall return. 

My fellow Striders results are as follows:

01:37:20 Simon Fletcher, 01:51:03 Scott Hitchcock, 01:56:40 Phil Robinson, 02:12:16 Claire Keith, 02:23:45 Alan Hards. And I finished in 03:19:51.

You are now entering Mapp and Lucia country

The first time I ran the Rye Ten Mile, I was deceived by the name into thinking that it took place in Rye itself, and that runners took part dressed as characters from E.F Benson’s Mapp and Lucia stories, or, even better, as characters from Henry James. In fact, the race takes place in Peasmarsh, a few mile north of the town, and goes nowhere near Rye itself. But it’s a gorgeous rural route, on lanes, in and out of sunlight, past pretty cottages and grander houses. The woods are supposed to harbour wild boar, but I only saw a dead badger.

In 2012 I was delayed by a guerrilla car boot sale. I took no chances this time and came a different way arriving with sufficient time to stare at some crossword clues in the car before my pre-race routine of inhalers, Body Glide and a visit to the lavatory.

We lined up for the start, I thought a little depleted, though the results show there were two hundred of us. Off we went and, as ever, I think I went too fast in the first two or three miles. The route goes out into the woods, takes a long loop between the three and seven mile points and then returns to the race HQ the same way as miles 0-3. At mile 2 or so, there’s a steep descent, which reminds the wary runner that he will have to go up this on the way back. It feels very hilly, though I see my total elevation gain was only 236m (that’s a bit under three consecutive ascents of Seaford Head). 

I was passed by younger fitter runners, and some older ones too, but I kept a rhythm of sorts going. The route was cheerily and efficiently marshalled, and well watered, with stops at 3, 5.75 and 7 miles. After the seond water stop I inhaled an insect, which caused a coughing fit that lasted for a mile or so, but resolved itself. For the last few miles I was running on my own. There were runners behind me but so far that I could not hear them and, like jockeys, I don’t believe in looking back, while those in front were long gone. The hill at eight miles was tough, but I resisted the temptation to walk, and I ran back to the finish, arriving as the prize-giving was in full swing. The first man, Tom Mullen of Haywards Heath Harriers, finished in an astonishing 1:01:39. See Nice Work’s results page for full results, including my own 1:50:05. The last time I ran this race, I achieved 1:43:25.

it’s not often I can claim to have been the first member of the Seaford Striders home in a race, but on this occasion I was, as I was the only club member running.

I was rewarded for this by water, all the melting Jaffa cakes I could eat, and a hefty medal which one of my cats attacked when I returned home.

 

Six weeks till the Bewl 15, 5 July 

The road to hell revisited: the Phoenix 10k

Last night I ran the Phoenix 10k, Spanish plumes notwithstanding, in my fastest time for nearly eighteen months. I hope this may represent a return to form. It’c certainly better than the 60+ minutes I’ve been recording since over the distance more recently, though those were nearly all on hillier courses.

The Phoenix 10k is flat, flat as Norfolk. My Garmin recorded 9m of elevations, but I think that’s not a true reading. Unsurprisingly last night the winner was Benjamin Tickner of Phoenix, recording 30:05, which I believe is a new course record, and my fellow Seaford Striders recoded some impressive times. See the results at Sport Systems.

The race is an out and back, heading west from Hove Lawns to Shoreham and back, and taking in some of the route of the Brighton Marathon, known as the road to hell. That much is clear from the race description; what they don’t tell say is the olfactory nightmare the sensitive runner will have to endure. It starts with the gents loo at Hove Lawns, which smells as only a seaside public convenience can on a warm day when there have been plenty of visitors. Then there’s the ubiquitous stench of barbecues, burnt burger with top notes of lighter fluid, and, in the background, the heady smell of the sweet scented cheroots that so many of the residents of Brighton and Hove favour. As the route nears Shoreham other, more industrial themes emerge, fish, rubber, solvents...

I found myself running at the same pace as a raucous group from one of these new-fangled runners collectives, who yelled encouragement to each other and celebrated in a decidedly un-British manner whenever they passed  a kilometre mark. It can be alienating to find oneself in the middle of what is essentially a cross between a club run and a hen night. From time to time I would try to break clear of them, but each time they caught me again. Still, I should be grateful to them, as they kept me going at a good pace. 

For once, I had absolutely nothing left at the finish. I managed a sort of sprint for the line, but after that….this means I judged things more or less correctly. 

2013's running in retrospect

2013 was not my best running year. The unimpressive totals reflect a year spent in worrying about injury.
Distance: 406 miles
Time: 78 hours
Ascents: 5,800m
I ran five Sussex Grand Prix races, the Chichester Priory 10k, the Hastings Half, the Newick Will Page 10k, and the Brighton and Crowborough 10ks. I also ran the Lewes 10k and and first ever Bill Young Memorial Run.
I ran in unusual locations too, on Paxos in the Ionian Sea, and in Oxford. I completed the 2013 Janathon, but withdrew from Juneathon after an eight mile run caused my knee to flare-up.
There were some large gaps: in the summer I went six weeks without running, and even when running, managed to run only twice a week, or even once.
There are grounds for optimism though. At the end of the year, I seem to have started to regain strength and fitness, and am running more regularly. I now know that events like Janathon, which require daily running without a break, are beyond me as I enter my sixtieth year in February. I need time to recover.
I have entries for the Eastbourne and Hastings half marathons, and am contemplating the Seaford half too. I am a quarter of the way through a training programme for Hastings, one which, unusually for me, is measured in time rather than distance.
They also serve who only stand and wait, and I marshalled for races in 2013, and have the honour to be Chief Marshal for March's inaugural Lewes Marathon, the Moyleman, named in honour of the late Moyleman, a great Sussex runner.

The John Faulds Hellingly 10k

Today I ran my first race since the Glasgow injury. It was hard and hilly, but I finished.

This is one of the Sussex Grand Prix races, and one I had never done before; as I have tried this season to do races that were new to me, it fitted perfectly. But I only returned to running two weeks ago. Would that prove enough?

The route is the quintessence of the English countryside, roads and lanes that run by hedges and through woods. It is all on road, and the hedges hide the views, but nevertheless it was glorious. I and a fellow-runner exclaimed in delight when one section took us from the glare of the sun into cool shade, smelling of autumn.

At the start, talking to fellow Striders, warnings were uttered about the hills. At first the route is flat and then descends slightly, but then begins a steady climb and is uphill until the 5k mark. I managed well, and didn't have to stop to walk, unlike others. The Garmin shows only 100m of ascents, so the hills are not terrible; I suppose it is the continuous ascent that puts some runners off. My knee didn't hurt and though my breathing was perhaps not all it should have been, I felt well. After half-way, the route eases a little, and some welcome water freshened me. But by 7 or 8k, I was really struggling. Another runner encouraged me and, following his pace, we passed a farm offering a full English breakfast, and another selling horse manure, he entertained me with thoughts of how one's running technique might have to adapt if carrying a sack. I let him go on and others overtook me. By now it was really hard and as we arrived at Hellingly village, I wondered if I could finish. I kept going, to finish in 1:04:35. I must have looked as if I was in trouble, as another runner, someone I vaguely recognised from the Sussex Grand Prix circuit, asked me if I was all right, and said he had seen me struggling. And perhaps I was close to fainting, for I felt much as I felt once when, as a boy, I was on a walking holiday in the Peak District and collapsed in a swoon. Some liquid restored me.

 

For official results see: http://www.hailsham-harriers.org.uk/Main%20site/Main%20site.htm Dave Rogers took some photograohs, which may be seen at http://www.flickr.com/photos/dave_rogers_photos/sets/72157631479713122/with/7962038516/

Thus with a 10k under my belt, I can prepare for another next weekend, the Hove Prom 10k. I hope to be inside the hour this time.