We ran over this. Jealous? You should be.
Awesome- In the true sense of the word
If you've driven east along the M62 until it becomes the Clive Sullivan way, in Hessle, near Hull, you will have experienced the sense of awe as the Humber bridge appeared in the distance, filling your vision, and dropping your jaw open.Majestically, this breath-taking structure strides out over a mile across the Humber estuary, landing (or taking off, depending on your point of view) in Barton-Upon-Humber in Lincolnshire. Finally finished in 1981, 7 years over-due and millions over budget, I stood on the approach to the bridge as a 6 year old watching the Queen shuffle past me, close enough to throw some rotten fruit at. Unfortunately I didn't have the presence of mind to shout "Get a job you tax-dodging, inbred sponger!" but still.
Each of the 2 towers of the bridge climbs to over 500ft, scraping the very sky and visible for miles around. My favourite statistic about the bridge is that the towers are 2 inches further apart at the top than the bottom, because of the curvature of the earth. That's how vast it is. Weighing over 500,000 tonnes in total and with 44,000 miles of suspension cable, it sways up to 10ft in high winds (Don't worry, it's supposed to!) Jeremy Clarkson once famously said of the bridge, "It's just like the Golden gate bridge in America, only bigger."
When driving towards Kingston Upon Hull, where I grew up, and for all those people who also did, the sight of the Humber bridge announces that you are home. And what a truly magnificent sight to greet those lucky East Yorkshire folk.
When built, the Humber Bridge was the longest single span suspension bridge in the world and remained so for the next 16 years. Although it has now been relegated to number 7, it is still the largest bridge in the world that you can walk and cycle over on the purpose built paths ether side of the bridge.
Perhaps now you've grasped some of the excitement I felt at finally being able to take part in the Humber Bridge half marathon. I had been meaning to enter for years but something had always managed to get in the way. One of my motivations for taking running up again a few years ago was wanting to emulate my brother who has 2 Humber Bridge medals. My Dad also ran the Humber Bridge marathon twice before the event was consigned to history.
No race of halves
The race itself starts at 9am as an attempt to avoid the worst of the heat (if there actually is any) so it was a very early start from Leeds to arrive in time. I assumed that the Clive Sullivan would have a queue down the slip road to Hessle so didn't want to risk missing the start. As it turns out the queue started much farther up, but I avoided it with my local knowledge and parked up 10 minutes away to enable my legs to warm up with a brisk walk.Underneath the bridge is a very large country park and a vast, under-used car park area where the race village had been set up. It's traditional for me to complain about the toilets at every race, but this was a particularly large "intercourse at height". The queues for all 7ish (not an exaggeration) of the loos was huge. At least they'd had the forethought to put in some urinals for the men to ease the congestion a little. I hate to imagine what it would have been like without them. After waiting in the queue for 10 minutes and realising that there was no way I would reach the front in time, I nipped in to the thankfully plentiful bushes. I know, I know, TMI.
I had been warned about the notoriously tough course for this race with the killer hill at about 9 miles and adding this to my lack of training due to the still-sore rib injury, I knew a PB was never going to be on. The long-awaited summer heat would also be another toughening factor.
Eventually the runners lined up on Ferriby road that crosses underneath the bridge on the Hessle side. I turned around to look back and the dip of the road afforded me a fantastic view of pretty much all 2000 runners, apparently a record field. I had taken pain killers to dull the inevitable pain from my ribs and hoped they would last the race out.
The race is pretty much uphill for the first 3-4 miles. The course starts with a loop around to the approach road for the bridge before hitting the bridge itself, so basically, all uphill. Standing still on the start line I was sweating, so by the time I hit the not-so-subtle hill that is the bridge itself, I was already struggling. I have seen the amazing view from the bridge on many occasions and felt the feeling of vertigo when staring upwards from the bottom of the towers, so I perhaps wasn't as distracted by the setting as a first timer might be. I could do nothing to stop myself concentrating on just how difficult this was feeling and how my ribs still hurt.
Towards the south end of the bridge there was a brief respite from the climb before hitting what I felt was the worst hill of the day- the slip road up to the roundabout above Barton. It was interesting, as always, to see the way different runners took this hill, some over taking me and some falling behind me.
Left at the top of the slip road at the roundabout and down a long, long, looooooooooong hill in to Barton, followed by a loop around this pretty little market town. Usually a long descent like this would have me shouting, "Free speed!!" and hitting it as hard as I could to make up for the slow ascent, but today, I felt I had to save some for later and I just didn't have it in me. At this point the sun was really beating down and I grabbed water at every water stop, a thing which I don't usually do, but I needed to wet my mouth. Mercifully the route through Barton is flat once you've got down the first hill.
And so it continues
The miles ground on and the thought of the hill at 9 miles was playing on my mind. In my only other 1/2 marathon, the Great North Run last year, I had been wondering when it would feel hard. I had cruised along for mile after mile feeling fantastic. This one was the polar opposite. I wondered if it would feel easy at any point, if I would fall in to that wonderful rhythm-place where it feels so easy that I could carry on for ever. It didn't happen. But at least I knew about the giant hill to come and it wouldn't come as a surprise to me.
Hilly? Naaaaah
Turning down Far Ings road, a Barton resident had set up a hose pipe from the front door of his terraced house which many runners took advantage of- hope he's not on a water meter! A little further down the road another Bartonian shouted offers of "Magic beans for the hill" They were jelly beans, natch. I declined as I find it hard to chew on the run, but she did make me laugh.
Under the bridge again, this time on the south side when up popped Gravel Pit Lane, so named because when you've run up it, you want to be buried in a gravel pit. I heard the hill referred to by many scary names on the day - "3 hill mile", "Killer hill", "Cardiac hill" and some just referred to it in expletives.
As I started up this hill, the runner next to me looked up and exclaimed, "Oh shit! This wasn't in my training plan!"
"Don't worry," I said, "It gets worse"
I started slowly and turned down the proffered wet sponges half way up. 3/4 of the way up I suddenly realised I could run faster and I started to over take a few people, but I wasn't sorry to see the end of the hill. A quick jaunt back to the roundabout followed and down the other slip road and once again back on to the bridge to face the deceptive curve, with the end now in sight.
Once again I was trundling along very slowly, but as the bridge went on I got a little stronger. I started to speed up and began over-taking people who had sped past me ten minutes beforehand. There were people littering the path who had clearly "hit the wall" and were struggling badly, perhaps deceived by the "easy" hill of the bridge.
Excuse me Sir, but do you know your race route looks a little bit, erm, well........phallic
At the end of the bridge the route curves sharply left and I found myself running alone. The crowd on the corner gave me a huge, galvanising cheer and I could have hugged every one of them. Just the sprint back down to the car park and the finish to go. Pretty much all the crowd gathers at the finish and it feels good to run through them at the end.
My time at the GNR last year had been 1:34, pretty pleasing on my first ever half and at the Manchester marathon I had turned around at 1:35, so I had every reason to believe that I would do ok here. Sadly, given the rib injury curtailing my training and the fact it was still bothering me on the day, I came in at 1:37. Another race to put in to my all-too-bulging folder marked "Not too bad, all things considered."
The winnings
http://youtu.be/ZZblY6nyElM?t=22m45s
Overall race impression:
I know I always complain about lack of loos, but this time it was ridiculous and really needs to be sorted.
The route itself is incredible, especially if you've never been to the Humber Bridge before, but it is challenging and don't expect a PB, it's just too hilly and the chances are it will be a hot day at the end of June.
The crowd is sparse and subdued, especially on the south side in Barton, but the finish makes up for it a little. The race village is excellent with a great atmosphere and plenty of stalls so you can fill your face with food afterwards.
I did wonder how the rotary club manage to undertake such a huge organisational nightmare for only 2000 runners and still make a profit, but the long list of sponsors on the back of the t-shirt explains that. And fair play to them for attracting that many backers!
It's a little disappointing that the t-shirt is cotton and not tech material, but the race is cheap to enter so you can't complain too much and the medal is more than acceptable.
All in all The Humber Bridge Half Marathon is a fantastic race to have under your belt.
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