H30 Pro Castle Combe 'Chilly' 10k - 22 November 2009...

Distance: 10k (6.2 miles)

In a time of...
hh:mm:ss
00:34:57

Finishing Position: 5
Number of finishers: 137
Putting me in the top: 3.64%

Getting my excuses in early for this one - this race was supposed to be my final 10k road race of the year, where I would do my darnedest to try and break the 34min mark, which was the target I'd set myself at the start of the year. There seemed to be a fair amount going against me in the build - up to this race, and ultimately when race day came, it was just never going to be my day.

It all started a fortnight beforehand, at my last race infact - the Wedgnock Hills & Spills Race; I was left exhausted and aching in all sorts of places after that race and had a hard time putting in the miles the following week. That following week ended with me attending an England Athletics Coaching Course, which involved not only theoretical work, but physical activities as well. I was running, jumping, bounding, throwing... all the sorts of activities you used to do in P.E. at school, and I loved it, though in hindsight I got a bit carried away and was a little over - enthusiastic with the activities. The following day I had muscles aching like crazy, most notably my quads were tight, and to a lesser extent, my calf muscles. I rested that Monday, and struggled round 5.45mi on the Tuesday before work. Wednesday I felt like I was almost back on track and went for gentle speed session at the track; I felt great, my quads were fine, and I could only feel a small amount of tightness in my calves. The next day (Thursday) I was scheduled for a rest day anyway, but my legs were feeling terrible. This resulted in me taking both Friday and Saturday as rest days too, meaning 3 days of total rest before Race Day, and as I woke on the Sunday morning I knew I still wasn't feeling right - as if I'd done a hard track session on the Saturday.

Regardless, I was going to be racing, so I travelled to Castle Combe with friends to give it my best shot. I met up with various members of RunnersForum.co.uk and set about warming up thoroughly. Rain pummelled down as I finished my warmup, and the wind started to pick up. Walking to the start line of the race the rain eased, but the wind was to remain. I ran a few short strides and got ready to go.

With the weather being less than ideal for standing around, with everyone lined up, the race organiser was happy to start the race a few minutes early - we were underway and chasing the lead bike. Perhaps a couple of hundred metres into the race the course switches back on itself, I positioned myself to make the most of this and in a matter of metres my 'racing line' through the corner had jumped me up several positions into top spot. I was soon passed again and I settled behind the leaders, ready to shelter from the wind. Two guys broke away, but I didn't feel going with them was the right thing to do, I settled into 3rd/4th place with a very tall guy from Bristol & West and as we turned onto the back straight *BANG* we ran straight into a wall of wind! The headwind was terrible and draining and within seconds I'd cowardly (or sensibly, depending on how you perceive it) ducked in behind the Bristol & West runner, though it really didn't seem to help matters much.

Fighting along the back straight we finally turned and headed back towards the start of the lap, which was sheltered from the wind. I spoke briefly to the Bristol runner and asked what time he was aiming for, his response was something along the lines of "I was hoping for 35mins, but not in this wind; we should just let those two go" (referring to the guys in 1st & 2nd place), my thought was that I needed to drop this guy fast if he was only hoping to run 35mins on a good day! I picked up the pace and whilst I didn't feel completely comfortable, I didn't feel too bad. The Bristol runner came with me and we continued to race together, eventually being joined by a very young, skinny lad, who had the most ungainly running style. Battling along the back straight again the young skinny lad started to break ahead - we passed 5km and I asked the Bristol guy what the halfway split was - after another 10 - 15m he finally replied "We've just passed 17:25", so I estimated we'd gone past 5km in about 17:20.

With that in mind I knew that to stand any chance of a sub 34 I would need to push on, and that I did, starting to open up a gap to the Bristol runner. Completing the second lap and passing the spectators, I heard the word "...Stuart..." over the tannoy, regardless of what was said I knew that meant one of the runnersforum members was hot on my heels - and I was well aware that Stuart was a gutsy runner - if there was half a chance of him catching me, he'd do everything in his power to make it happen! I pushed on again, though the calf muscles were starting to tighten up quite a bit now. Battling through the headwind for one last time (though it had gotten even worse since the previous lap) I tried to shelter behind the backmarkers as I came round to lap them, but with limited success. Somewhere around the 8.5km marker I could feel Stuart on my shoulder and within seconds he was coming past. Asking where 3rd place was I tried to point him out, probably 30 - 40m ahead; "Come - on, lets catch him!" Stuart said... "Bloody nutter!" I thought... and as Stu picked up the pace I was rendered useless as my tired legs simply couldn't match him.

I plodded along for the final kilometer, entered the pit straight and picked up the pace as best I could to cover any potential threat from 6th place. I finished, congratulated those around me, and went to see my finish time. 34:57, not bad, but not quite what I'd hoped for - frustratingly, had I managed my target time I'd have been fighting for first place.

I enjoyed some great grub, and some great company in the pub afterwards, and despite my best efforts to give reason why I didn't do as well as I wanted to, I'm satisfied in the knowledge that this race just wasn't meant to be.