The plan for Tuesday was to jog to the club training session and do a 'pack run' at recovery heart rate. But, with work being continually manic, I ended up having to run a couple of 6 minute miles to get to training on time. The first 7 miles of the 10-mile pack run was more sensibly paced at around 6:20 (sub-threshold 130ish bpm), but I couldn't resist the traditional push for home over the last 3 miles and I ended up chasing young Alex Plant through Attercliffe at around 5:40 pace (and full on race heart rate of 155bpm). I chastised myself quietly whilst coughing up crap for a few minutes afterwards, but, to be honest, it felt good to let the legs go and 12 miles at just over 6:00 average pace was a decent training run providing I hadn't damaged anything.
Wednesday was a much more sensible recovery double (11.2 miles total split evenly morning and evening) and Thursday was another easy recovery (6.3 miles) with a few strides. My legs felt tired (after effects of Tuesday), but my lungs were clearing out and I felt pretty free of post-flu fatigue. I decided that I would have a rest day on Friday and do a long training run round the 21 mile Grindleford Gallop trail race on Saturday morning, with another 10 - 20 miles on Sunday to take the weekly miles over 70.
On Saturday morning, I subconsciously went through my usual pre-race routine: decent breakfast of oats and protein, choosing proven kit, shot of beetroot juice, hydration, caffeine etc. I dropped Lola off at music academy, and collected fellow club member Helen Pickford from Walkley for the short drive to Grindleford village. When we arrived I had a jog round the village green with Doug Banks and Mike Sprot, and, during conversation, realised that my legs felt pretty bouncy. The rest day had definitely done its job. I decided that I would do the first mile with the leading pack so I could deduce how hard I would have to work to win the 'veteran 40' male prize. I could already feel the disapproval of wiser runners than me (focus on the long-term goal you idiot), but a quick look around at the competition couldn't hurt could it?
The start of the Grindleford Gallop is great fun - 500 runners sprint 100m across a field, across a muddy stream, through a couple of tight gaps, and then along a single file rocky trail for half a mile or so. If you are not in the first 20 or 30 people at this stage, it can cost you minutes. Obviously, my plan meant I needed to see who was at the front, so I set off at pace and got onto the trail in about 7th place...
Pic credit to Grindleford Gallop
At the end of the first mile, the leading pack reached a short section of road and I had a chance to look up from the technical footwork to work out what kind of company I was in. First thing to note was that there were clearly no wildcard 'national class' fell-runners here; the pace was comfortable and it was Mike Sprot (Dark Peak) that was setting it. Steve Franklin from Totley AC was up front too. What did bother me was a couple of unknown people in the front pack who looked like they might just have reached the magic milestone of 40 years of age! I decided to stay with the pace whilst it was comfortable and review things again in a mile or so.
Mile 2 of the race involves a challenging 500ft of ascent out of the valley on
open fields so I settled into a nice steady effort – making sure I was not breathing too hard. The ground conditions were notably better than last year
thanks to a few days of drying sun and wind. My favourite feather-light Saucony
Kinvara Trail shoes were gripping the rough ground easily and skipping lightly
over the tarmac and trails.
Pic Credit to Jen Regan
As we crested the hill I had a look around again and was
amazed to see that me, Mike Sprot and Steve Franklin had broken well clear of
the rest of the pack. The three of us descended into Eyam together and I
realised I was thoroughly enjoying the run: the weather was bright if a bit windy,
the scenery was peaking beautiful, and I was relaxed and breathing easily meaning I hadn’t
charged off like a nutter, and I could just about continue the pretence that I
was out on a ‘long training run’.
I had two main deliberation points at this stage. Firstly, I
was now setting the pace and occasionally pulling away from Mike and Steve, but
I hadn’t recce’d the course since last year meaning I was worried about getting
lost! Secondly, I had over 40 miles of training in my legs from the previous 5 days and I still had a rattly chest. I wasn't sure that I would have the stamina for the last 10 miles of the run so I needed to take it easy.
I decided that I would set a comfortable pace for a bit but slow down if I pulled too far ahead of Mike and Steve. This should, I figured: (a) make sure I didn't go too hard and burn out; (b) keep the pace up and me ahead of any fast finishing veterans in the chasing pack; (c) stop me getting lost (Mike knew the way!); and, (d) mean that I might even nick a top 3 position, which was a 2015 running goal I had set myself that after months of injury and illness seemed a long way off.
We all dibbed our dibbers together at the first checkpoint in Eyam and I led the way up the hill as we climbed up the rough trails towards Longstone Moor. As we turned to cross the fields, I was a good few seconds ahead of Mike and Steve, which was a bit daft as there was a strong headwind and nobody to share windbreak duties with.
As we passed 5 miles, I took my first gel, knowing that there would be drinks at the checkpoint near the top of the hill about a mile later. I was planning to take a gel every 5 miles and then have a decent gulp of drink at every checkpoint. This plan had worked OK during my marathon the year before, and it had the major advantage of meaning that I started the run carrying just 300g of 'luggage'.
After the next checkpoint we ran together over the top of the moors, dibbed again, and then hit the descent into Great Longstone side-by-side, chatting down the hill about how Steve's club mate Dan Hardy had led me down this hill like a complete nutter last year, before running way too fast down the Monsal Trail (a few miles that had a devastating effect on my race last year).
We cruised down the Monsal Trail with only my garmin mile 'beeps' and the encouraging words of walkers breaking the silence. I looked at my watch for the first time at the end of mile 10 and was surprised to see that we had covered the last mile in 5:53 - I shrugged to myself and put it down to the slight descent. It reminded me to take another gel though. Little did I know that we had just covered the last 3 miles in less than 18 minutes.
It was around this point that I started to think about the potential for a top two position or even the win. My legs definitely felt better than at the same point last year and I could hear Mike was breathing harder than I was. Then, when Steve set the pace for a bit after the Hassop Station checkpoint, the pace definitely dropped... I decided to tuck into 3rd position and see how the rough 400ft ascent out of Bakewell went.
As we hit the bottom of the climb after 11.5 miles, I could feel the fatigue in my legs and I was glad that Steve didn't go at the hill too hard. I managed a few sneaky 'walk rests' as we climbed the rough path, which was basically a stream of drying mud. I was happy to concede a few seconds in exchange for not taking my heart rate up too high on the hill. As we passed through the next checkpoint and into muddy mile 13 (above Chatsworth Estate), I made up the few seconds I had lost to Mike and Steve and we were together again.
I didn't make a conscious decision to push on at this point, but after half a mile or so along the fields I realised I was 10 seconds or so ahead of Steve, who also seemed to be opening a gap up on Mike. I felt good so I stopped looking back and took aim at the open gate leading down into Chatsworth. The trail was full of walkers but they were good at letting me through and in no time at all I was heading down the steep grass bank towards the narrow stile and stairs to the main estate. I was enjoying the run so much at this point that I literally held my arms out like an aeroplane and said 'weeeeee' down the hill. Can't believe I just admitted that.
The trails through Chatsworth are pretty dull and busy but at least they are quick and reasonably forgiving on the feet. The miles were ticking over now at around or below 6-minute mile pace and as I turned the corner into Baslow after my third gel (with a timely shot of caffeine) I had 5 miles to go and was feeling increasingly up for the win. The checkpoint and a sweet drink flashed by and I got a lucky break on the road crossing and headed up the beast of a climb onto Curbar Edge. A quick glance behind me confirmed that I had a circa 30 second lead on Steve and it was at this point that I consciously switched to 'race mode' - increasing my effort so that I was breathing out hard every third step (and taking my heart rate up to around 150bpm). The extra oxygen coming into my lungs, the sugary drink, and the caffeinated gel all kicked in as I had hoped on the big climb, and I was up on the edge in less than 13 minutes (unknowingly breaking Gareth Lowe's strava segment record by over a minute).
Pic credit to Mike Nolan
The edge was windy and congested with Sunday sunshine walkers and there were a few times when I wish people had let me open the gates myself (instead of fumbling incompetently with the catch). However, I was moving quickly at around 6 minute mile pace over the rough trail and there was no sign of Steve. I took the long way round at the very top of the edge having made the mistake last year of doing a clambering short-cut that ended up with me face down in the heather, and pretty soon I was approaching the tree line that told me I had just over a mile to go. My legs were getting seriously tired at this point so I squeezed down most of my fourth gel.
The trees passed in a blur during the drop into Grindleford - apart from the one that I smacked into when I lost my footing. Unscathed and fortunate, I got to the bottom of the hill and turned onto the rough trail and strode out for the finishing line. I got flickers of calf cramp as I turned onto the road and nearly wobbled into the kerb. But, I managed to turn right safely into the car park and cross the finishing line for my first 'proper' race win.
Pic credit to Grindleford Gallop
The fabulously friendly marshals at the finishing line told me at this point that I had missed the course record by just 24 seconds and, as my head cleared, I looked at my checkpoint print out and saw that I had finished the course in 2:24:56 - over 8 minutes quicker than last year. I couldn't believe it to be honest and started to worry that I had unknowingly taken a short cut (I hadn't!)
I stood stunned for a bit waiting to shake Steve's and then Mike's hand as they crossed the finishing line. We had a quick drink of water and then went to sit down for soup and cake (and to geekily compare split times). My post-race confusion cleared slowly over the next half an hour and I was back in the land of the living to watch club mate Helen Pickford and 'third lady' cross the line in just over 3 hours (not bad considering she'd done an ultra the previous weekend!) You can read all about Helen's run in her entertaining blog.
My post race analysis was illuminating. I basically ran the first 11 miles of the race in almost exactly the same time as the previous year, but I ran the last 9 miles, on average, a minute a mile quicker. So, just a little bit of extra fitness, a few long runs, some sensible pacing, and a nutrition strategy can really make a massive difference!
Most of Saturday afternoon was spend doing the housework that is generally required when I take several hours 'off' to do a race, but I allowed myself a few beers in The York and some great food in Thyme Cafe with Deb during the evening.
Sunday was spent at the English Institute of Sport watching the girls finish off the South Yorkshire Indoor athletics league in fine style - with Lola finishing 2nd overall in the series and Isla 4th.
I wasn't sure whether to run home or not when the event finished about 5pm as my legs were still stiff, but I was so keen to try out my new wrist-based Mio heart rate monitor that I couldn't resist it. And so, a gentle 10 mile home completed a decent week's 'training'. Fingers crossed I haven't over done it...
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