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Saturday 9 November 2013

Race Review: The Yorkshire Coast 10k, Scarborough. 3/11/13

If you enjoy this blog, please do leave a comment at the end or you can tweet me @scott_leach 

At the Spa,  Scarborough

The FSM's Own County

Last year the Scarborough "Yorkshire Coast" 10k battled it out with the Wetherby "A Cracking Little Yorkshire Run" 10k as my favourite race, so as you can imagine, I was really looking forward to this year. It never fails to amuse everyone to run a race sponsored by McCain. Yes, that McCain- as in frozen chips and you receive a money off coupon for them in your race pack. No, I am not joking.

Being from Yorkshire, Scarborough holds a special place in my heart. I have happy memories of family trips up the coast to sit in the old Ford Escort estate warming our freezing hands on cups of tea from a flask while we watched the rain lashing the windscreen. Then we'd wander up the front, huddled deep in to our waterproofs and stick £3 worth of 2p's in to a machine to win a plastic dinosaur and a Take That badge.
I fondly remember discovering the hologram museum on the front and being totally fascinated by it. Ahhhhh, more innocent times before iPads, blogs and playstations.

Scarborough is one of the proudest of Yorkshire towns, desperately clinging on to its former glory and it still retains plenty. Here's the Grade II listed Grand hotel under which we ran.

Although somewhat faded, it has a wonderful history and dominates the south bay. Moving along the front, the race route passes the grade II listed Rotunda museum of geology, and after the race we visited this little gem which has a couple of really amazing exhibits including a totally unique dinosaur skeleton!

But anyway, back to the race.

The race starts at the Spa, yet another grade II listed building and what a place to start! How many races can boast somewhere so luxurious to keep warm in before the kick off? The very efficient bag drop is also in the building along with free post and pre run massages.

And guess what? There are lots of toilets in the spa! Sadly, the main men's toilets had 2 of the 4 stalls out of order, but the queue didn't take too long and later I discovered another set of toilets that weren't busy at all.

Last year was the first year I had managed to run in Scarborough with a DNS the year before due to injury and I had really loved the experience of the race despite not running well. There is a large balcony area on top of the Spa where all the dignities gathered and also a band. I was beginning to think I dreamt  that the 2012 race was started by Perry Shakes-Drayton so I looked it up and thankfully all the blows I've taken to the head over the years haven't sent me totally wappy as she did. The band had been fantastic and warmed the crowd up better than any amount of bouncing about to dance music ever has at any other race. The top of the Spa looked like a really wonderful party.
This was at the end- You can tell by the yellow shirts
That's the balcony I mentioned- last year it was heaving with people having a great time.
This year the top of the Spa was a little more subdued and for some odd reason the band didn't really play much music. The bar had been set pretty high last year so although it was a slight disappointment, if you hadn't done last year's race you'd think it was perfect, but at least the sun was shining bright and the temperature couldn't have been better.

The race had expanded a little with 1500 signing up compared to 1200 last year which I think is the perfect amount. It's a very laid back affair so I was able to wander out only a few minutes before the hooter and still make my way very close to the start.

At the front the amazing paralympian Wondiye Fikre Indeldu was warming up. He has won a couple of the 10k's I have entered this year including York. I resisted the urge to try to get my photo taken with him as I didn't want to ruin his pre-race ritual.

Oddly, it felt like a long time since I had run in a 10k race, even though it was actually less than 2 months ago. The week after was the Great North run, then the Oslo marathon, then two weeks after that the Ian Hodgson mountain relay in which I suffered the injuries I am still battling with. My knee has not been right since and I have only been running once or twice a week for the last month. Still, I didn't think I would have lost much fitness so was going out aiming to break my 10k PB and come in under 39 minutes.

To start the race there was a countdown, then the mayor of Scarborough -no less- set us off and I went out fast. Maybe too fast.

If you'd been standing at the Rotunda with this view at race time you'd have seen the field running through here.

Suffering From Terrible Wind

The first kilometre went by at under 38 minute pace which I held until the 3rd k when it started to go wrong. We knew the wind was going to be a factor this year and it proved to be a big factor. As we left the south bay and rounded the headland we hit the cobbled stretch and were blasted in the face by the wind. At this point my lungs started to give me problems feeling like they were being scrubbed with a pan scourer. At times I had a metallic taste in my mouth. Not good.
Heading towards the north bay it felt good that I could still see the leaders not too far in front, but the gusting wind, although not gale force by any means, was sapping in strength and spirit. Still, I consoled myself with the thought that it would be at our backs on the way back. Little did I know....

By the time we hit the turn off for the little loop around the park, I was struggling and my pace was dropping off. The turnaround point is a little over halfway and I was really looking forward to some wind at my back, but bizarrely, it never materialised. At the point where the wind had been strongest on the way out at our faces, on the return leg....... it was at our faces again. I am at a loss to explain this! We got all of about 30 seconds with a gentle breeze at our backs the whole way despite the out-and-back route. Just before we turned off for the park the leaders flew past and I gave them a cheer and a clap.
As we made our way back to the start line I watched my pace slowing. I already knew there was going to be no PB on the day, so I focussed on keeping under 40 minutes, but by the time the headland came up again and the wind started to push me back, I knew even that was gone.

The race passed back through the busiest area of the seafront again and the crowds cheering gave a real boost, but not enough to make me go faster. Last year I had finished the final k pretty quickly but this year I had nothing in me. I plodded in with my slowest kilometre of the day not even bothering with a push towards the end; the PB was gone and even the sub 40 was gone by a long way. I had finished about 30 seconds quicker than last year, but I had thought myself in much better shape, and in wetherby I had gone 2.5 minutes quicker on a multi terrain race. So not a great time at all. Ah well, there's much more to the Scarborough 10k than a fast, flat PB course.

Crossing the line I suddenly felt nauseous as I had done at the same race last year. Maybe it's something to do with sea air?


Afterwards I really enjoyed what the race has to offer. The band were banging out what I believe the kids these days are calling "Cracking choons" and they launched into Fleetward Mac's "The chain" soon after I finished. (That's the formula one song if you don't know) I picked up my bottle of water and banana that helped take away the nausea and meant that I didn't have the indignity of heaving over the sea front.
We also managed to catch the last few people making their way down the finishing straight.

There's no medal for the race but you do receive a pen, and the best hi-viz shirt I've ever received, which isn't a huge compliment given my hatred of hi-viz, but I do like this shirt. Foot prints in the sand- perfect for Scarborough.


Now the delights of Scarborough lay before us to recover in. So we headed off to the calf vegan cafe as Rebecca has a bit of a thing for cows and is also a lapsed vegetarian.

 After a delicious meal we headed off to the Rotunda before crossing the Spa bridge to finish off a perfect racing day.







Monday 4 November 2013

Race Review: The Chevin Chiller 31/10/13

If you enjoy this blog, please do leave a comment at the end or you can tweet me @scott_leach 

Some of the motley crew

This Halloween the venerable hosts of RunSunday, Paul and Michelle, decided to put on a head torch run in the Chevin country park and christened it the Chevin Chiller. With head torches and hi-viz mandatory, the night run would be about 6.66km (666- geddit?) Why not? I thought, and signed up early; anything to escape the trick-or-treaters. Then I went about getting other suckers runners to join in.

I knew there was no way of getting Jaunty (Aka Debi, the cat in the picture above) running without signing her up myself and telling her later. So that's what I did. Rebecca and Fran were easy to rope in and a few Fellandalers (Martin, Simon and Christine) joined in of their own accord. Fran also got her work colleague, Kate, to run too.

Kate generously invited our little crew down to her house in Otley for some delicious soup before the run and we later we made our way up to the Chevin all ready to go. I parked in the bottom car park and the walk through the small part of the forest to get to the start helped our eyes adjust to the head torches.



Because I signed up early I got number 007. Well, I thought, that's my costume sorted. Costumes were very much encouraged on the run although few people really went for it. As it turns out I no longer have a formal white shirt (I got rid of my last one as weight loss had rendered it akin to a duvet cover on me) so running as James Bond was out. I considered just wearing a bow tie but felt that would be far too much of a half-arsed effort, especially as I don't own a cumberbund either.

We arrived at the start to an amazing view of a sea of headlights and a wonderful atmosphere. Sadly, no photographic evidence exists of this but archeologists one day hope to recover hi-viz vests worn from this tremendous period of history. Only this shaky, blurry video still remains, with some lunatic talking over the top.

The event had been organised without the help of flyers and mainly through local running clubs and the turn out was a very solid 200. As is the way with fell(ish) runs, the start was made with little to do, save a small speech from the organiser, Paul.



This video above in no way shows the fantastic view of a couple of hundred headlights disappearing through the Chevin. The video in fact, is so bad it should be expunged from history, but hey, you get what you pay for.

Anyway, here's the course:

So I decided I was just going to have fun doing this run, rather than having a race, the knee injury being a consideration, especially with the Scarborough 10k only a few days away. Before the race we had all decided to stick together, but in the event, that didn't actually happen.

I managed to film Fran and Kate as I waited for everyone to catch up



There is a classic Brooks viral ad about ultra running that I have always found hilarious and as I filmed Debi, I decided I would have a laugh and recreate it, well, sort of.....


So for once I had no race strategy and no time to aim for, I was just intent on having fun, and that's certainly what I had. Running in the pitch black (There was very little light from the moon) was a new experience, but I have a very good head torch that I bought last year with the intention of some night runs and I soon adapted with its help. I couldn't go full blast when I wanted, but I really didn't feel like I was likely to fall at any point (Although that's usually just how I feel before I end up eating dirt)

After spending some time with Debi and the pumpkin I decided I would speed up and try to catch Fran and Kate who had managed to lose Debi not long after the start. It was quite a surreal experience chasing the pumpkin (No euphemism intended)....


I caught Fran fairly quickly and ran along with her for a while. Before I decided to try to catch Rebecca who had gone off in front quite a while earlier, so I ended up running the second loop fairly quickly and over taking a lot of people which was quite tricky in the dark.

The route stuck to the wider tracks in the Chevin and went up and down the hills. There had been a fair bit of rain so it was soggy underfoot which made it all the more fun. The marshalling was excellent and there was never a chance of running off-course.

Eventually I arrived at the end not having caught Rebecca but having had a lot of fun. I grabbed some of the water before it ran out and the little goody bag which contained a healthy bar, sweets, and also a pen, which I thought was a lovely touch.



Then I waited to try to catch the others finishing with my little compact camera, not an easy task and one I did not pull off with anything approaching aplomb.


In Conclusion Ladies and Jellyspoons

This run seems to have really captured the imagination of the local runners who took part. I can definitely see this taking off big time in future years as word gets around about just how much fun it was. Of course this will mean more organisation which is probably going to mean tents, portaloos and t-shirts and I am sure more even more people will turn up in fancy dress and make it even greater fun. I can definitely imagine running this race being chased by fields of witches and zombies. 

Whoooops, nearly forgot to mention Debi's faceplant and show you her knees.....

Running's a dangerous business!

Saturday 2 November 2013

DNS (The York Marathon)

If you enjoy this blog, please do leave a comment at the end or you can tweet me @scott_leach 
These are going nowhere
There is much discussion in the running community about the relative merits of DNS (Did not start) versus DNF (Did not finish)........

I want you to imagine a film scene.

A black screen, with only the sound of a wind so sharp that it sounds like it could cut you in two.

Slowly, a dim light fades in and begins to reveal a gravestone. As our view continues to widen there is a loud, booming sound like a heavy book dropped from the balcony of a silent library and a large letter D is stamped on to the gravestone.

The camera continues to zoom out and pan right uncovering a second gravestone. Another boom and  a letter N is stamped on this stone.

A third stone appears out of the gloom and the letter S is heralded by another loud crashing sound.

The camera stops. The wind howls and screams. We take in the morbid scene.

Slowly the first gravestone begins to topple forward taking an age to fall gently forward before it smashes into the ground shattering into thousands of pieces and lifting a cloud of dust. Then the second gravestone falls forwards and once again disturbs the ancient ground. It is followed a split second later by the third and final gravestone. The film switches to slow motion and we watch as the cloud of dust swirls around in the wind.

Fade to black.




To DNS or to DNF, that is the question.

Yes, I know I'm a drama queen but nearly every runner will, at some point, face the agonising decision of whether to start a race not knowing if they are going to finish, or to simply not start it. DNS v DNF. I faced such a decision a couple of weeks ago.
If you read my last blog, you'll know that I took quite a heavy tumble during my last race- the Ian Hodgson Mountain relay. I badly injured my shoulder and arm and the strength has been slowly returning ever since. Although that still isn't better, I can run with it fine and it doesn't slow me down, however, my right knee, which wasn't a problem at the time of the run, became a problem in the following days. When I ran again, the following Wednesday, I began to experience a sharp pain in my right knee after a couple of miles and, to cut a long story short, it's continued ever since. 

The day before the York marathon I went out for a final run, having taken a few days off to see if my knee would be ok. One slow 5 mile run later, the obvious answer was no, it wouldn't. 
I had gone backwards and forwards thinking about it, should I or shouldn't I? I really didn't want to miss the race as I was very lucky to get in- it sold out inside 72 hours- amazing for an inaugural event. The York marathon was supposed to be my first sub 3 hour marathon or at the least, my "Good for Age" qualifying time for an automatic place in to the London marathon. But would I get round? Would I end up finishing really slowly? Or not at all? Would I put myself out for weeks if I did it and miss a couple other races I signed up for? Was it worth the risk?

The run on Saturday confirmed that there was no way I would get all the way around 26.2 miles. The knee just wouldn't put up with it. A shorter race I might have been able to tough it out, 10 or 15 miles maybe, but a marathon is a step up. The wall can hit you like a ton of bricks at 18 miles. Reluctantly I took the decision to withdraw and posted to facebook. The sympathy I received was nice to read. 

For the rest of the week I enjoyed reading about all my friends finishing the race and looking at their photos. For quite a few of them it was their first marathon. I was a little more gutted, but very pleased for them.

So, in retrospect, did I make the right decision? I have to say yes. The knee is still painful and I can only manage a couple of miles before it gets very sore. I had no choice. I still want to lower my 10k time before the end of the year and I need to give myself the best chance of being fit for the two 10k's I have signed up for, starting with Scarborough tomorrow.






Friday 1 November 2013

Race Review: The Ian Hodgson Mountain Relay 6/10/13

If you enjoy this blog, please do leave a comment at the end or you can tweet me @scott_leach 


River Deep, Mountain High

I joined Horsforth Fellandale quite a few months ago now, but have only managed to run 3 fell races since, The Otley Chevin Fell Race, The Stirton Fell Race and The Belper Rugby Rover 30k, due to me having signed up to quite a few road races well in advance and also because of my propensity to face-plant. So when I was asked if I would like to be part of Fellandale's team for the upcoming Ian Hodgson Mountain Relay race, I jumped at the chance.

At the time I didn't realise what a big deal this race is on the fell running circuit. The race is held in memory of the tragic death of Ian Hodgson whilst cycling in Leeds the day after winning his category in the Karrimor Mountain marathon and this year would be the relay's 26th running. You can read about the history of the race here.

The relay is run in pairs over 4 legs, so 8 runners in each team. There is a limit of 80 teams and each year it could be sold out several times. The calibre of the field is very high as each club sends out its best runners. Fellandale have finished well down the field in recent years but this year a couple of faster runners were involved and it sounded like there was hopes to finish a little higher than the second-from-last of a year or two ago.

I was teamed with Adrian on the 4th and final leg of the relay. My road race times are a little quicker than Adrian's (Though I suspect that is a lot more to do with a lack of races on Adrian's part than me actually being faster) but on an ascent Adrian is a street ahead of me. Our leg was around 7 miles with a lot of ascent and descent. I did my usual trick and forgot to turn on my GPS watch as we set off and only remembered about 30 minutes in. I also forgot to turn it off at the end. I really should get checked for early onset dementia. Anyway, here's the elevation we would be facing. The leg started and finished at around the same elevation so about 200m of the beginning of the ascent are missing.


Simon picked me up at an un-flying-spaghetti-monster type time on a Sunday morning for the 2ish hour drive up to the lakes. On the way our conversation rambled around as they usually do. I felt pretty guilty for having missed the recce of the route that Adrian did so I was entirely reliant on him for directions meaning the helpful pointers Simon gave me about what to expect from the race were very welcome.
As we got closer to the lakes the weather started to change until we entered thick fog with visibility dropping to only a few yards. It turned out to be only in one valley and we passed through it, but when we arrived at the start point in Patterdale it was clear at ground level, but the tops were shrouded in mist.

The start area was like a small county fair. I enjoyed a gorgeous bacon sandwich and cup of tea before looking around a stall set up by the famous Pete Bland sports. In hindsight, I should have been looking for some decent fell running shoes, but more of that later.

We walked round to see the mass start and arrived a bit late so basically watched a lot of arses disappearing down the track.


We met up with Adrian at Brotherswater for the start of the 4th leg and by now the weather was closing in. Earlier in the week I realised I needed to buy a waterproof running jacket to adhere to the rules, so off I went on a hunt for said item. And what a hunt it was. The FRA (Fell Runners' Association) have stipulated this year that your waterproof jacket must have taped seams and this more than doubles the price of a jacket. Urgh! After a long search that involved a lot of miles I ended up with an Inov8 raceshell 220. Hardly a snip at £120, but I decided that it was a waste of time spending £50 for one without the taped seams only to have to buy one next year. The rain began to fall whilst we waited for the 3rd leg runners, Ben and Simon, to get to us, so both Adrian and I donned our jackets. Good job the duct tape on Adrian's jacket held in the awful weather to follow.
The other rules included everyone carrying a compass and whistle and at least one map between each duo to go with the full set of waterproofs. I decided on taking my cheapy supermarket backpack with the bladder in it, which was a bad mistake. Everyone else was wearing a simple, light, bum bag and no one else was carrying water. Another lesson learnt.

The picture Simon took with panoramic mode on his iPhone has helpfully made me extra wide. Thanks for that, Apple. See that mountain behind us? We ran up that....
We found out later that Ben and Simon had taken a detour in the fog and had lost about 10 minutes, so Adrian and I only just beat the mass start (If your team hasn't come in by the cut off the rest of the teams are set off) We had started to get very cold as we waited and Adrian, only 1 week from the Berlin marathon and still full of cold, was visibly shivering .

Watching the 3rd leg runners from the other teams coming in was a great experience, sometimes inspiring, sometimes hilarious. Some runners were taking it incredibly seriously despite being in with no chance of a podium finish; if I had to guess, I'd say they must have been trying to break their PBs from last year. Down the hill they came flying and desperately waved their dibbers about trying to work out which heavily-hi-viz-jacketed marshall had the dibber thingy. (Each team carries a "dibber" a small electronic device which tracks your split time each time you "dib" in at the checkpoints) Some of the not-exactly-spring-chicken runners came down the hill at tremendous speeds and as always, the sight made me more determined to be one of those crazy old buggers in the future. One guy came down and I actually thought he was wearing a mask- you know the one- a very old and wrinkled face with very long white hair, and he was really flying. He had to be at least in his 70's.



Eventually we spotted Simon. He was chasing Ben and looked absolutely knackered to my eyes. Simon hadn't ever run with Ben before and had been told by the Hodgson family that Ben was a walker more than a runner and not really very fast. This was a gross misrepresentation, Ben is a real flyer!

They dibbed in and handed the little device to us and off we went. It really didn't take long before we started the ascent and got our first sight of the Bingley ladies that we would battle on and off with until close to the end of the race. The ascent was brutal and it felt neverending. I felt we did very well to keep running for quite a bit until the mountain got the better of us and we began to walk. Around 3/4 of the up I was struggling badly and Adrian was still climbing relentlessly. "I wouldn't mind if we took a break" I said. Adrian answered with a nonchalant "Ok" which apparently belied the relief he felt when I suggested a break.
We stopped only briefly and plowed on again.

Despite the fact Adrian had reconnoitered the leg in bad weather and the weather was now coming in badly, his memory of the route was truly amazing. He managed to warn me each time we came to a false summit so I wasn't suddenly expecting to start the descent.

At the top the weather turned ugly and the wind whipped the rain in to our faces like a psychopathic jailer. It was so ferocious that I ran with the hood up on my jacket for a fair distance as the side of my face felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand tiny needles. The visibility dropped to only a few dozen yards but this didn't stop the magnets in Adrian's head from keeping us on the right track. I suspect he is part pigeon.

Not long after we reached the summit, Adrian started us off on the slapstick fell running that we decided to adopt for the rest of the race. And when I say "we" I mean "me". But anyway, Adrian started it by taking the first tumble. I watched in terror as Adrian landed heavily and didn't move for a second whilst he regathered his wits. He came up with is knee bloodied. "Are you ok?!" I really thought that our race was over.
"Knee's a bit sore" he said, stoically, before carrying on seemingly unaffected.

With the weather lashing us mercilessly we followed the path as it went up and down the peaks and I began to pull Adrian along; the Berlin marathon, cold and the fall taking its toll on him. And then I started. Down I went and found myself staring at lakeland rock. I came up bloody and muddy but I was ok. A lucky escape. Just minor damage.
At this point the Bingley girls were with us. Time and again we would over take them, only to find them coming down the next peak at a better angle, and moving back in front of us. Slightly guiltily, each time we saw their better lines we fell in behind them using their route to over take them.

The visibility dropped even further as we reached the final summit. The marshalls had spread out a bit to help the runners as we dibbed in. You could have run within a few feet of the checkpoint and missed it easily.
Then we began the descent of St Sunday Crag on soaking wet and slippery rock.
Which is when the main disaster of my race struck. I fell again, this time landing heavily on my right forearm, ramming my shoulder upwards. I let out a loud cry and lay still for a minute as I mentally examined the damage and waited for the initial shock and pain to subside. "Take your time!" Adrian said as I uttered expletives.
I sat up and my shoulder was hurting like hell. It felt a bit like the really nasty injury I had done to myself only a few months before that had left me unable to run for several weeks. I flexed the shoulder back and forth and it was sore, but it felt ok. We set off again and I realised that I had also badly stubbed my big toe in the fall or maybe it was what caused the fall. Either way, it was throbbing badly and was making it difficult to run. After a while I had to ask Adrian to walk for a bit. A few minutes later the pain eased and I was able to run again. Unfortunately the sore shoulder was making it difficult to throw out my arms, badly affecting my balance and as we started to descend I was struggling awfully. I was all over the place slipping and sliding. I couldn't adjust my balance quickly enough and I could barely stay upright. I was trying to keep on at the same pace to catch the Bingley girls that had passed us while I was sitting on the ground.
I slipped again and sat down heavily and I knew it was game over. I was going to have to take the rest of the descent carefully. The trail trainers I had on were also entirely inadequate for getting down this sort of rock in the rain and the inner soles had bunched up inside the toes of the shoes. Another lesson learned- I won't be taking on the mountains in trail shoes again!

The rest of the race was tough. Just trying to keep my feet was a real challenge and I wasn't sorry when I saw the final field and the finishing straight.

That's Adrian and me in the distance

As we crossed the field we started to sprint so we'd at least look reasonable as we finished.

The crowd went wild and crazy as we crossed the line...or not.

We were made to show our race numbers in case we had turned delirious in the mountains and gave the wrong number verbally. We also had our packs checked to ensure we were carrying the required kit. Then a surreal moment- one of the Hodgsons was standing in the entrance to the finish helping take the numbers then when I walked on a few feet- there he was again, wearing different clothes. Maybe I was a little delirious as it took me a moment to work out they were twins.

We had got in just in time to see the multitude of prizes given out (Not that we came close to getting one)
that consisted of sports books and beer. As we stood watching my injuries began to clamour for attention. My shoulder was stiffening badly and eventually I needed to go change out of the wet clothes which involved using the back of Simon's car. Trying to get out of soaking wet clothing with a badly damaged arm and shoulder  in a confined space was a real experience. It would have been quite a sight had anyone ventured by.

Afterwards, numerous people asked if I had enjoyed my first experience of fell running in the lakes. At the time I reserved judgement, I was in lots of pain and feeling pretty sorry for myself. But now, in retrospect, I'm in lots of pain and feeling pretty sorry for myself. So no, I can't say I enjoyed it, but not because of the race - that's fantastic - just because I got so much wrong and have ended up injured and still am as I write this three weeks later.

The Fellandale team finished 61st which was an improvement over the results of recent years. Here's the team, minus me as I was struggling away in the back of a car.

Not sure what that person is doing on the floor behind Simon......

Damage Report:

First the good news- by the next day the stubbed toe was pain-free. 
And now the bad news- the next day I could not move my elbow up more than a few inches and not because of the pain, but because I had no strength in it. A few days later, at training, Adrian (A doctor in A&E) confirmed what I thought- I had done some nerve damage in the fall. A bundle of nerves runs down the shoulder and under the arm pit. I had given them a good old twang. Since then, the strength has come back a little bit each day but I am still probably only at 60% in that arm.
Worse than that was my right knee. At the race I hadn't noticed it, and in fact I didn't notice it for a few days until I went for a run and got stabbing pains after a couple of miles. It too is getting better, but is still causing me problems.

Damn- I feel like a proper fell runner now!

But the worst damage (for a Yorkshireman) was the rip in the elbow of my expensive, brand-spanking new jacket on its maiden voyage. Getting it repaired turned into a bit of an epic and left me feeling pretty disappointed with Inov8. To summarise- I emailed Inov8 to ask them how I would access their repair service, only to be told they didn't have one. I expressed my amazement that a high-end technical clothing manufacturer who specifically makes clothing for extreme conditions didn't have a repair service! Then the emails got surreal- they suggested I could use duct tape (I told them that suggesting amateur repairs wasn't helpful and I had contacted them so that I could get a professional repair) then they told me on googling they had found a repair service. I replied that I am capable of using google myself- I was trying to access THEIR repair service or at least an approved one. In the end, it wasn't until I made a fuss on their facebook page that they sent me an email asking me to send it to them, which I did.(and the facebook discussion promptly disappeared) I then didn't hear from them for a while so I emailed asking what had happened (It being an expensive jacket I had sent it special delivery so knew that they had received it) They explained that they were trying to find a suitable service and that it was difficult because the hole was in the elbow. I eventually got the jacket back after about 2 weeks with the repair done. The repair is very good in that it is very very waterproof still, but it doesn't look amazing because the rip wasn't sewn or pulled together in any way before the patch was put on on the inside. Good job I want it for practicality and not for poncing about in.
I have to say, this has really made me feel very wary about buying another Inov8 product. I wasn't actually trying to get a free repair for the jacket; I had been very impressed with the abuse it had taken and was entirely responsible for the damage that I had eventually done to it- I just wanted the repair done properly. Hopefully they now have something in place for when this happens next; I cannot imagine that, given the sort of things that people do in Inov8 jackets, that they won't get a lot more enquiries of this nature.

I'd still do it again

Crazy I know, but you read right. The race was a disaster for me personally, but it really is a great race. It's really well run and amazing fun in a brilliant location.  Next year, all being well, I'll be back armed with some experience and a better pair of shoes!






Friday 11 October 2013

Race Review: The Oslo Marathon: 21st September 2013

This blog is a bit of an epic, so surely you'll want to leave a comment at the end should you make it there, or even tweet me @scott_leach


Oslo!

My brother married into a lovely Norwegian family a few years ago and so I have become a little acquainted with Norway and the people over a few visits, whilst getting to know my sister in law and her family.
Norway is a stunningly beautiful country with gorgeous rolling hills giving way to incredible fjords, spectacular mountains and the famous midnight sun in the north. In the cities the buildings reflect the rugged and attractive people. In the countryside pretty wooden buildings pepper the landscape making Norway feel traditional yet ultra modern, stylish and up-to-date. So what could be better than spicing up a trip to see my brother and his family than by running the Oslo marathon? Genius plan! Sometime back the thought had entered my head that I would do a marathon abroad each year and Oslo could be my first.
However, as it turns out, as great a country as Norway is and as great a city as Oslo is, they haven't really got the hang of a big city marathon just yet...

I mentioned the Oslo marathon to my brother's brother-in-law whilst chatting on facebocks one night and two minutes later he had signed me up. I had no excuse now! Somehow, I had managed to get signed up for 3 marathons, before I had even run one. Oslo would be my second after Manchester in April, which went very well.

So I was really looking forward to the visit. Then disaster- my sister-in-law got a job in Malaysia and would be moving before the marathon! I would have to sort out my own travel plans and accommodation....in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Whoops.

I know how to pack for a marathon abroad ;)

Fail to prepare; prepare to fail

As the marathon came closer I periodically checked the website of a certain budget airline- you know the one; they treat you like cattle and don't put enough fuel in the planes- waiting for the price of flights to come down from over £200. Eventually they hit £30 and I booked it, along with an ultra budget hotel in the heart of Oslo. So far so good- it wasn't costing me too much money.

One thing I need to do is keep my race diary a bit more carefully in future as I suddenly realised that September was going to be one hell of a mad month. If I did all I intended to do, I would be racing every weekend throughout the month, starting with The Wetherby 10k, then The Great North Run, Oslo and finishing it up with either the Sheffield 10k or The Horsforth 10k, both of which I've done for the last 2 years. Crazy.

The weather report for Oslo looked great as I set off for Liverpool airport. The cattle handlers herded us around whilst constantly trying to sell us rubbish before we eventually landed at Oslo Torp. I was just glad to avoid the electric cattle prods. The budget airline being the budget airline, Torp is actually about an hour and 45 from Oslo by the Torp Expressen bus which, to my horror, was £42 for a return ticket. And it got worse. I had been on the bus no more than 10 minutes and in Norway no more than 30 when I received a text message from my mobile provider (Orange or EE, depending on how you think) telling me that I was protected by a £42 data limit on my phone whilst abroad......and I had already reached 80% of it from less than 20 minutes on facebook!! Apparently they charge 8 POUNDS per MB. Maybe this trip was going to cost more than I imagined....

Leaving the airport: It's not easy being the world's best photographer you know
The wonderful scenery passed by the window and before I knew it I was at Olso bus terminal, a place that I was soon to become very well acquainted with...

As I looked out of the bus terminal I discovered my next mistake- printing out a very basic google map of Oslo to my hotel wasn't really adequate for finding the marathon expo to pick up my number. I had thought I would be able to get a map in the terminal but I was wrong. I had about an hour before the expo closed otherwise I would have to get up earlier the next day before the race to get my number. Right- route march through Oslo to find the place! Eventually I resorted to using up even more data with google maps, but I managed to find the place.

I realise that marathons make you pick up your number from an expo for a reason, rather than send it to you- so you can be herded around sponsors stands, which was exactly what happened. I have no real objections to this- except, as it was a Norwegian expo it wasn't really very relevant to me and they had set it up so you had to pass every stand before you could pick up your t-shirt on the way out having picked your number and chip up at the entrance. I would have liked to have opted out of this really, but then I might have wondered if I was missing anything. When I reached the end I asked for a small t-shirt only to be told that they had run out, which in this case was lucky as the medium fits me brilliantly! I also rather liked the boot bag it came in:



Using my terrible printed map, a couple of maps on bus stops and the magnets in my head I managed to find my hotel. I had to snigger when I realised the whole place looked and even smelled like an Ikea.
The room was tiny, which I knew having read the reviews, but it was stupidly cheap for Oslo and very neat and tidy with clever touches. The bed was fitted in to a corner and was comfortable. All I needed was a bed to land on so this was perfect. I was distressed to find that the payment hadn't gone through when I originally booked it and so another £110 fell screaming from my account.

How much? Do you accept body parts in payment?   (Not yours though mate, they look knackered)


After a nap I had my next challenge: to find a meal in Oslo without bankrupting myself. Just around the corner from my hotel, I got lucky; beer at only £5.40 per 500m. I supped a jar with a large bowl of carbonara pasta with a very confusing raw egg sitting in half a shelf and a small bowl of pesto. Then back to the hotel for a good, long night's sleep before the race in the morning.

The marathon booklet wasn't a massive help to me as I barely speak English, never mind Norwegian.
 Now I know just how childish it is to laugh at other languages when some of the words are a bit rude in English, but well.....I'm childish. So there. Norway provided me with lots of  "Sorry, come again" moments, or in the American vernacular, the slightly more punchy "Wait...what now?" And on that note let's have a closer look at that marathon booklet....

Wait...what now?
More of that later....

Marathon Morn

In the morning I had to endure a Yorkshireman's nightmare: an expensive buffet that I couldn't take advantage of. I paid nearly £12 for the breakfast at the hotel to avoid having to find a place and whereas I would normally have stuffed my face fit to last for at least until the evening, I had to stick at a bowl of cereal and a coffee so as not to feel too full during the race. I now realise I should have stuffed my pockets full of whatever I could carry. Amateur mistake!

My hotel was only 5 minutes from the race start and I wandered down there in plenty of time.

Way to fill us full of confidence.... (Only in Norway would the Ambulance be a modified Mercedes!)
Really oddly, they were setting us off in 3 waves, despite there only being 3000 doing the full marathon length. I had been put in the back section and I messaged the organisers on facebook slightly panicking- I really didn't want to set off at the back! They assured me I could move forward and there wouldn't be any problem. In the event, they were right and I started close to the front with no problems.

On the day of the "Oslo Maraton" there would be 23000 people running, but only 3000 of those were in the sold-out marathon itself. In what I found a very odd state of affairs, the marathon was to start first, followed by the half then the 10k. Some of the 10k runners not starting until 6pm. So essentially, they shut off large parts of Oslo for a full Saturday!

The start had a large scaffolding over it and the MCs and warm up people bounced around on it trying to gee people up as usual. I wasn't waiting around too long in the slightly chilly air before the hooter went and we were off through the sparse crowds. A quick left turn and we were on the harbour front. "Harbour" is the best word that I can think of to describe it, although it is far too grand for what it was. Depressingly, less than 200 metres in to the race, we passed this point with the 29km marker.


We would go on to pass this point a further 2 times before the sign was correct. I hadn't realised just how bad that would be for my moral.

As usual I had thought about what I expected from the race in the days before. I had raced the 2 previous weekends and broke my PB for 10k, then took 9.5 minutes off my half marathon PB the following weekend. I knew that these two hard races would mean that the marathon would be very tough. Luckily, I picked up a good tip from the terrible book on marathons that I started to read when I got in to Norway; to set myself more than one target time: One I would be satisfied with, one I'd be very pleased with and one I'd be ecstatic with. Respectively I set them as: Breaking my PB; The London marathon good for age time of 3:05 and  Less than 3 hours.
I know it seems odd to have my lowest target as a new PB but I knew that I was in much better shape than at my only other marathon in Manchester in April, so it seemed very reasonable to assume that that would be a relatively easy target.
I also came up with a tactic that might seem odd; I was almost certain that I would blow up between 18 and 20 miles. I just hadn't managed to get enough distance training in in between the races. With this in mind I decided to go out reasonably quickly and just try to get as far as I could before I would have to slow. I was certain that it wouldn't matter at what time I got to that point, I would still hit the wall. In hindsight I still stick by this slightly odd logic although I had to wonder if I was setting myself up with a self-fulfilling prophecy and that maybe I wouldn't blow up at all.

The Oslo opera house

Round and round and round and round and round and round and round.........

So around the headland we went for the first of three passes and soon to the opera house. I've had a look around this wonderful modern building the last time I visited Oslo and it really is a great piece of architecture. You can just see from the photo above that you can walk right up on to the roof. Alongside the opera house they had set up a small stage with some ballerinas dancing to europop- a nice touch which I enjoyed a lot. But definitely not in a dirty, pervy old man way, oh no.

And so it started to go downhill, although not literally. The opera house itself is a fantastic building, but right now, it's sitting in the middle of a gigantic building site. Unfortunately, the organisers had decided to run us through it more than once.......in fact, the route was a loop through the giant building site, so we actually made 6......SIX passes through it. With not a single supporter to cheer us. A small stage had been set up in the middle of it however, and a drummer was doing a great job along to a sound track. It didn't make up for the building site. To paraphrase an old joke- Oslo is a really nice city, it'll be brilliant when it's finished...
The 6th and final time I saw the opera house, my fantasies of vandalising it had become huge on a grand scale and involved explosives and tanks.

From the building site the route went over a flyover and then around the bus terminal, around another loop and then...............back past the bus terminal. As the route was a fantastically confusing multi lap route (Although not the same lap!!) we actually passed the bus terminal SIX times. Think I'm joking? Sadly not...

The grey building; that's the bus terminal. 6 passes didn't improve it
At the expo I had studied the marathon route. The map was criss-crossed with varying coloured lines in a terribly confusing way. I couldn't for the life of me work out how the marathon was going to work. Post-run, I think, think, that it happened this way- 2 laps of the 10k route, then a lap of the 1/2 marathon route, then a final lap that included most of the 1/2 marathon route again, with a couple of extra bits to make it up to marathon length. Bearing in mind that the 10k route was part of the 1/2 route and 2 x 10ks plus a half plus another half is 60-odd-k-ish; they cut off some chunks somewhere, I'm just not sure where. Confused? I was. I have to admit though; the staging was remarkable, for instance, when we came to the loop in the building site for the third time, the barriers had been moved and the loop extended. I had to wonder how they made sure everyone did the correct route?

So back to my race. I knew that to go under 3 hours I would need to average under 4:16 per kilometre. Last week at the half marathon I had averaged 3:59, so it seemed possible and for the first half, I sat at 4:12. I was constantly working out the race maths; how much time was this giving me in hand? How far did I have to get before I could afford to slow down? During a race my mental arithmetic goes entirely to pot so the answer changed lots of times, but it's a good way to pass the time. I tried to settle in to a 4:12 pace, but it was hard from the start. I quickly realised that the last couple of races had taken a lot out of me.

I'll skip ahead a little. The route was, in the main, phenomenally boring even without taking the building site in to consideration. Lots of running through deserted areas of town and even in the populated areas there were few people around.
The route, in all its erm...glory

A couple of nights before I set off, Jauntyhippedgirl had asked if I had looked at reviews of the race, I admitted I hadn't. As I was running it as part of a planned trip to see my brother, I hadn't bothered. And when I looked, it made grim reading. I couldn't find all that many reviews, but the ones I could, gave the same opinion of the marathon- repetitive and boring. One said that he always did the race as it was close to where he lived, but he couldn't understand anyone flying in to do it. Whoops. I guess the organiser's response to this was to add the music stations. Or more of them. The google translation of the emails telling me about the planned entertainment provided me with some yucks.



I was looking forward to focussing on carpet and seeing how they invited life around the course. Another email translation claimed they would "create life" around the course. The mind boggled at that one!

The music stations, frankly, were a bit crap. Bored looking marshals stood on their own next to sound systems pumping out generic euro-pop. I can't say they were especially motivating. The large areas of deserted city, though pretty enough, it being Oslo, were quite dispiriting. A few areas right in the centre and around the start area (We passed through the start area 3 times) had some modest crowds. In a couple of places people were banging away on cow bells, which was great, it made me really feel that I was running in Scandinavia. If that atmosphere was extended around more of the course the atmosphere would have been amazing. As it was, a few people shouted out "Heia" (to sound like hey ya!) which means "go on". Sometimes it was shouted with more vigour than others and occasionally in such a dull monotone that it was comical. At first it sounded great to hear it, but like anything that is shouted out during a marathon, by around the 35th k, people could be shouting out "Free naked models and money" and you'd still want to punch them in the throat, or maybe that's just me?

The Balloon B*stard

Several pacers had been provided for the race. The forums kept mentioning "following the balloons". I wonder what the hell they meant, until I saw the pacers had large helium balloons attached to them. The fastest pacer was 3 hours, so I had a target- stay in front of  "balloon b*stard" (BB) as I had named him.
At the first loop through the building site the I caught sight of BB as the field looped around the same road. He was a fair way behind me. Cool. The race went on; opera house, bus station, ghost town. Opera house, bus station, ghost town. Opera house, bus station, ghost town.
And we were at the halfway point. I was flagging. Badly. I was already experiencing discomfort in my leg muscles; way too early. We rounded the loop in the building site again, and there he was. BB. I knew I would see him soon as the average time on my GPS watch told me I was slowing and there was nothing I could really do about it. The sight of him spurred me on. He was surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of people all trying to break the magic 3 hour mark. The thought of all these people having to pass me, all of them judging me for what they will have thought of as "some idiot who went off too fast", and who knows? maybe they were right. It kept me going for a while, but I knew it couldn't happen. I had to make the decision to let the sub 3 hour time go. I didn't debate with myself for long, I knew it had been a looooooooong shot. Not long after, I knew I had to let the good for age time go too. For a while I entertained the thought that I should aim for last year's good for age time of 3:10, but then realised that was just pointless.

Time for some not-so-pretty pictures

Ok, let's break this up for a bit, here's some of the sights we passed, sometimes multiple times and some better than others

The 3rd and final time down these cobbles was at about 40km. Not nice!

One of the museums, sorry, don't ask me which one

Yep, a lot of the buildings looked like this!

Oslo's Hard Rock Cafe

Well, maybe not in a marathon....


I think this guy was on the marathon committee 

Yep, the building site was pretty huge, and this is just a small part of it

The stunning dock area we ran through. Erm...

We passed this point 6 times too...

This photo probably doesn't do justice, but these were really amazing buildings


This was the turn around point that they miraculously moved at the third pass, pretty, huh?

Someone liked playing with lego when they were a child


Skip To The End

Now my expectations had been rounded severely down, I was just trying to keep going at a reasonable pace. I was pleased that I seemed to be holding at around 4:30 per k. In a discussion with Jaunty, I had mentioned that I had actually managed to up my pace in the middle of the Great North Run for the first time ever during a race. She said that she had read in one of the many running books she's read, that one runner said that sometimes, when they felt tired, rather than slow down, they would speed up. During the last half of the race, each time I felt myself flagging, I tried it and to my amazement, it worked. I would be able to run faster for quite a bit before slowing down again, but I wouldn't slow back down to the original pace for a while.

I remembered at the Belper Rugby Rover feeling much better each time I stopped and stood still at the checkpoints, drunk a couple of cups of water and ate a jelly baby or three. When I set off after each stop, I ran off much quicker feeling refreshed. With about 15km to go, I decided I would stop at each water stop. Because of the multiple laps there were a lot of water stops but they were spaced quite randomly. Annoyingly, the water was being handed out in small cardboard cups. Try drinking from these running at speed without throwing most of it over your face...I tried lots of times, but didn't manage it. Since then I have heard the technique is to fold a slight lip into the front of the cup. I'll have to practice that one. In all honesty, I think a major city marathon ought to give out bottles, or even the squashy pouches that we got at Manchester- those were good and much more difficult to turn an ankle on a discarded one.

There was one section of the route that was part of the marathon only. It headed west out of the city. We passed through some seriously expensive, beautiful housing. With no one there. No one. Zero. None. And then to a marina. The marina was gorgeous and I found it the most enjoyable part even though it wasn't cordoned off and cyclists rode down the same path we were on in the other direction. The path took us past a huge moored ferry. Amazing.

No Really, Get On With It, Scott

The water stations couldn't come quickly enough; I started chugging the proffered sports drinks (in the small cardboard cups) but declined the banana halves. And so I edged closer to the end. Speeding up and slowing down. Sometimes moving at sub 3 hour pace and sometimes much, much slower, trying to regather myself at each drinks station until we headed down the cobbled stretch with the Royal Palace in the distance (Thankfully they didn't make us run up the sizable hill to it) and the 41k and 42k markers passed. So at least I knew I was going to make it whilst still running. Sometime around there was the previously promised belly dancers. If you can manage to appreciate belly dancers 41k into a marathon you are a much better man than I! We also barrelled straight down the centre of one of the main shopping streets which had been impressively cordoned off with 6 foot-tall barriers meaning the fairly plentiful shoppers were trapped in tiny rat runs whereas we runners trotted down a wide thoroughfare which was hardly necessary given the sparse volume of runners. The shoppers looked at us with bemused bewilderment.

Finally the finish line appeared again and mercifully for the final time. I speeded up enough to try to look impressive as I crossed the line, I failed of course, and crossed the line looking like my usual drunken monkey.

The Nobel Building
The finish line was right in front of the Nobel prize building which it would be entirely inappropriate to say was appropriate. The medal was placed around my neck and I hobbled off to find beer, but before that I took off my shoes and socks and bathed my feet in a beautiful cold fountain, to the amusement of some of the onlookers.  The search for beer took me a while as it seemed that the organisers had either not put on a beer tent or had hidden it well. I thought I had read that there was a beer tent somewhere but my search was fruitless so the exciting after party never emerged. However, I did find a beer eventually.

The very beer I supped after the marathon; and what a snip at only £7.40......
I positioned myself with a view of the finishing straight and watched some of my marathon colleagues finishing. By now the temperature was perfect at around 20 degrees. A couple of Norwegians next to me started chatting and were surprised when I confirmed that I had finished my marathon half an hour ago. I asked them if they knew the German word -Schadenfreude-?
They looked perplexed. It means, I told them "To enjoy someone else's misery" I explained-Positioning oneself to watch other runners coming in having finished ones own marathon.

Ok, let's break it up again for some more, "Wait, what now?" moments...


Erm, thanks for pointing it out....

Wait, what now? Is that a giant silver ball sack and misshapen cock?

Never chase after children in your digger...

My Norwegian isn't great, but I think they don't want us to go any further AND *snigger* Hi-5!

A what hall now?

No, these pants are just a bit tight

Erm, no thanks, I'll have salt and vinegar 

It's been said before
And here are my winnings
The only "selfie" I've ever taken, about an hour after finishing. Glad to say I look just s much a twat as everyone does in a selfie
Finishing the marathon by myself with no one cheering me on or there to meet me was a slightly lonely experience and I probably wouldn't recommend anyone to fly in and out so quickly when doing a marathon.
Later that evening, after a shower and a nap (A hotel room with  bath wouldn't have gone a miss) eating alone wasn't much fun and I headed back to the hotel pretty early.

The view from my hotel room

Summary

I'll reiterate that Oslo is a great city, clean, metropolitan, stylish and modern mixed in with the traditional and Norway is a wonderful country, but unfortunately, they've some way to go with the marathon.

They've obviously been trying; they put out a lot of music stations for example, but in the end, the people of Oslo just haven't taken to this event. If you watch any skiing you'll know that Norwegians are capable of making a lot of noise and creating a great atmosphere, but sadly, not for this marathon yet.

There are some really major problems with the race:

Lack of crowds
Repetitive, boring route
No energy gels etc (Although the bananas were a nice touch)
Cardboard cups instead of bottles or similar
Multi-lap route
Really average t-shirt and medal that I am not even sure was specific to the marathon
Nothing is set up for international runners

I really do want to be positive about my first marathon abroad, but, well.....there's not a lot

The boot bag is very nice
Oslo and Norway are lovely
The few spectators that were enthusiastic, especially those with cow bells
What they did do was well organised
The ballerinas at the opera house
*Addit* A tracker system for the runners was live on the internet and Jaunty managed to follow it
I'm really struggling now.....

And one huge, annoying bug-bear. A marathon is 26 miles 385 yards or 42.195km. Exactly. That's it. Not a yard less, not a metre more.
What it isn't, is 3k, 5k, 10k, 13.1 miles or anything else for that matter.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand breathe.

So all in all, no, I wouldn't do it again, but did I regret it? No, not at all. I've now got my first marathon abroad out of the way and learned a lot of useful lessons along the way.

A lonely pair of gloves I spotted discarded on the route the next day. The left one may or may not, be giving me the finger


Chocolate milk with a picture of a moose from Torp airport. What more could you want to aid your marathon recovery?
And the link to my garmin http://connect.garmin.com/activity/380214469

Did you really get this far? Well, I broke my PB by 6 minutes or summat, coming in with an official time of 3:11:09