A Beginner’s Guide to Running Terms (What They ACTUALLY Mean) - ADIDAS

NOTE: I'm lucky enough to have been approached by ADIDAS who have invited me to be a part of their Blogger Community. This means I get to link up with other like-minded bloggers (which I take to mean other snack-obsessed runners) and they give me some ADIDAS vouchers to write my blogs … which I do anyway! Sounds like an absolute win to me!

I'm doing nothing different except adding some links to ADIDAS kit! Win win!

So you’ve decided to become a runner. Congratulations! You are now part of a noble, unhinged community who willingly spend hundreds of pounds on shoes that promise to make us slightly quicker at parkrun and who think “relaxing” means voluntarily running up a hill. Hills. Plural.

This post is fuelled by crème eggs, sarcasm, and the fact I’m currently wearing head-to-toe Adidas tracksuits (If I can’t run fast, at least I can look like I know what I’m doing.)

But before you lace up and trot off, you need to know the language. Running has its own dictionary, and like all good dictionaries, it’s mainly full of words that sound either ridiculous, misleading or like medical conditions you’d rather not discuss with your GP.

Don’t worry though … I’ve put together a handy guide to running terms, complete with their REAL meanings.

Oh Yes. Having a grand old time trying to run up hills ... *CRIES*

PB (Personal Best)

Official definition: Your fastest ever time over a certain distance.

Actual meaning: The time you’ll spend the rest of your life trying (and failing) to beat. Despite new (and ever more expensive) shoes, new (and more complicated) training plans and trying new (and ever weirder) fuels & recipes … it'll remain elusive. However, a PB is definitely more achievable if you’re wearing shiny new kit. (Cough Adidas ladies black trainers cough). It's not worked yet. But I'm no quitter … goes off to buy 67^th pair of trainers.


Fartlek

Official definition: A Swedish training method meaning “speed play.”

Actual meaning: A word that makes non-runners think you’ve joined a Dad Joke comedy club. Also, running fast until you regret it, then jogging slowly until guilt forces you to speed up again. Repeat until death. Or vomit. Or brown shorts. 


Negative Split

Official definition: Running the second half of a race faster than the first.

Actual meaning: Something your coach suggests with a straight face, as if you’re not already sweating like you've eaten your child's easter eggs and they've asked for help looking for them, by halfway through the race. Go faster? Now? HOW?

Yes. That's me at London Marathon this year getting beaten by a penguin,

Carb-Loading

Official definition: Eating extra carbohydrates before a big race to fuel your body.

Actual meaning: Pasta. So much pasta. Pasta for breakfast, pasta for lunch, pasta until your family stage an intervention and beg you to eat a vegetable. Luckily, Adidas leggings and mens tracksuits stretch far enough to accommodate your new spaghetti baby belly. 


Bonk / Hitting the Wall

Official definition: When your glycogen stores run out mid-race, leaving you exhausted.

Actual meaning: The precise moment you discover your legs are ornamental and your brain is made of soup. Minestrone soup to be precise. And you wish you were on the sofa instead with a cold beer with your slippers on and your man hoodie.


Tempo Run

Official definition: A comfortably hard effort.

Actual meaning: An oxymoron. Like describing my race photos as “pretty ugly”.

It's perfectly NORMAL to run up mountains on holiday. *cough*

Taper

Official definition: The period of reduced training before a race. 

Actual meaning: A time when you run less, eat more, and panic constantly that you’ve forgotten how to run. Symptoms include Googling “Can I lose fitness in 72 hours?” at 2am. And when fuelling sensibly involves me wondering how many crème eggs I can justify as “sensible”.

Time to dig out your walking boots and get some miles in around that marathon expo. Walking doesn't count as mileage right? Want some more kit while you're tapering? Get your hiking boots here!


Shakeout Run

Official definition: A short jog to loosen your legs before a race.

Actual meaning: A public catwalk where you parade your carefully chosen race kit while pretending not to be terrified. (Top tip: new Adidas running tops look even faster than they feel.)


Ultra

Official definition: Any race longer than a marathon.

Actual meaning: A marathon, but with more snacks. Usually entered after two glasses of wine and the phrase, “How hard can it be?” And encouragement from online friends who will join you in thinking “What the hell have I just done?” the next morning.



Garmin (or any GPS watch)

Official definition: A device that tracks pace, distance and time.

Actual meaning: A small wrist tyrant that decides your self-worth. Finishing a run feeling amazing? Wrong. Garmin says your “training status” is “detraining.” Now cry. At least my Adidas womens hoodie never judges me. It just quietly soaks up the sweat and pretends everything’s fine.

And there you have it: the secret codebook of running. You’re welcome. Next time someone brags about their negative splits or invites you to a fartlek session, you’ll know exactly what they mean (or at least how much to laugh in their face).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go “carb-load.” Which is a fancy way of saying I’ve just cooked an entire family-sized lasagne… for me. And yes, I’ll be eating it while wearing my Adidas waterproof trainers because fuelling is serious business.

Tales & Trails: Talking, Running & EXCELLENT Cider

I was quite convinced that no-one would come. I’m no pro-athlete. In fact if someone can be relied upon for something to go wrong, it’s usually me. Nice docile sheep? It’ll be chasing me. Passing a nice bushy bush with big leaves? Tummy will suddenly have an ‘episode’. Water? Fall in it? Bike? Fall off it. Run? Fall over.

That’s pretty much my life. And my training. 

Luckily Paul the owner of `Big Bear Events’ decided that this was pretty much WHY people would want to come and hear me chat to him. That and the fact that there would be a beautiful trail run around the surrounding area and the MASSIVE PLUS that the talk would be held at a brewery. 

And you know what? It went ok. There was a little bit of heckling. From friends - phew! So to be expected. And no-one walked out. Apart from Ali who needed a wee, so that practically doesn’t count. And NO-ONE boo-ed. At all.

Win. 

And the cider was most excellent. 

Photo by Paul 

BEING A WOMAN: How Running Boosted My Self Confidence

How did running boost my self confidence? 

It made me realise that I can do almost anything.

I ran my first 10k in a cotton t-shirt, some old baggy trousers and some trainers my Mum had given me because they didn’t fit her. Running HURT. I was about 5 stone over the weight I should be, a heavy smoker and I hadn’t really put enough training into this. I realised that running HURT. And that I would probably be last in this event. But it didn’t matter, because I was going to keep going until I finished this. Even if it did take me almost as long to complete the event as it did to drive to London from the Midlands.

I realised that running hurts, but that giving up would have hurt more.

My first marathon entry was a Christmas present from my husband’s parents. I hadn’t quite got the courage up to enter a marathon distance event. So they took the pressure off, by putting the pressure on. It was just what I needed. But I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to do it. 26.2 miles is a LONG way. I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to do it, so I booked the day off work and went out to run. Long. I got lost and ran 29 miles by mistake.

I realised that it I want something, I gotta train for it. And that sometimes things don’t go quite to plan but so long as I can find my way home again things usually work out.

My second marathon was as part of a group of six, trained by ASICS and Runners World for Paris Marathon. I was in the right place at the right time and clearly didn’t come across quite as incompetent as I often feel … particularly when I’m falling into ditches or wearing 2 similar but not identical trainers. (Actual things I’ve done). I managed to come away with a 20 minute PB, a Boston Qualifying time and a negative split. And some really ace friends.

I realised that even the scariest goals can be achieved with decent preparation, solid training and some belief in myself.

I entered a 100 mile race. It’s amazing what sounds a good idea after a glass of wine. Or two. And I arranged to run it with someone I had met once in the middle of the night. In a field. Running 100 miles hurts quite a lot and your tummy does all sorts of strange things after eating jellytots and sandwiches for 50 miles. Turns out strangers met in the middle of the night turn into lifelong friends when you run together for 100 miles.

I realised that sometimes it doesn’t matter how well you plan your training and fuelling ... what really matters is having someone you trust guard the bush you’re in and pass the loo roll over.

I have entered and completed plenty more races since then. More than one or two have involved marathons and wine, several have involved fancy dress and a few races in GB kit after qualifying to represent Great Britain.

I realised that the memorable races haven’t necessarily been the ones where I’ve had personal best times, podium places or medals but the ones that have been memorable because of the people I’ve met. Whether that’s running a marathon in Surrey as a Ghostbuster, falling across the finishing line on the Cotswolds Way because I was looking for the cakes rather than at the kerb or losing my voice cheering a 10k race in Munich because I was shouting so loud.

I realised that I can do almost anything. With the right people and a bit of belief, I can run the world. 

NOTE: This blog was first posted on ASICS FrontRunner here

RunMotion App: Shouty Coach or Nice Coach?

How do you tell a decent running app from one that’s not so good? There are so many available nowadays that it can be difficult to tell which one will help you achieve your goals and which ones won’t be a good investment of your time … or money.

When I got an email from RunMotion offering me a test of their app, I decided to give it a go. I had nothing to lose. The gym was closed, the country was in the middle of a pandemic, all of my events had been cancelled and anything that helped me to build up some run miles was going to be a bonus.

I’d lost pretty much all of my running motivation so accepting to test an app would mean I would HAVE to run, right?

Sorted. I gratefully accepted the invitation and downloaded the app.

TEXT MESSAGES

I was expecting the usual questionnaire on opening the app and setting it up … you know, the stuff that I HAVE to put in to get the useful stuff out at the other end … 

… but I didn’t expect the format.

RunMotion is set up so everything is in a text message format so it feels as though I’m actually having a conversation rather than mindlessly filling in boxes. And it feels much more personal.

COACH SHOUTY

Something I also liked was that I had the choice of 3 different types of coaches:

Positive Coach ‘I’ll give my best to help you reach your goals’

Philosopher Coach ‘Know yourself’ is the beginning of all wisdom’

Authoritarian Coach ‘I’m not here to waste my time’

Clearly I chose the authoritarian coach. I know myself well enough to know that if I get the option, I’ll sit around and not do much running so I need a coach – even a virtual one – that’ll tell me to get off my arse and start putting the work in. 

Even better if there’s an option that tells me to ‘Put The Cake Down’.

MUD OR ROAD

I also chose which days I could run and how many days a week I could run which is fairly in running apps, but what was different was that I could also set the type of terrain I was running on. As everyone knows there’s quite a difference between road running and trail running. Usually mud.  Lots of it. 

GOAL SETTING

Goal setting was simple. The app simply asked me ‘Why do you run’ and gave me a range of options e.g. set a PB, run for fun, running as cross training or do well in a timed test. It was nice to be able to be specific and also to have the option to run for pleasure. So many apps are end goal focused that it’s nice to have an option to NOT have that. Particularly in a year where I’m a little peeved about having all of my events cancelled from under me.

VERY peeved.

BEING CONTRARY

As a result I didn’t have an event to train for this year, but because I’m contrary I decided to put in ‘Wellness and Pleasure’ but also ‘Finisher of a Race’,

However, the app was clearly waiting for me to be a pain as it asked whether I was in lockdown and whether I’d like to prepare for a virtual race in 2021. Huh, slick. 

It even offered me a list of races …

Ok. I’m impressed.

ANY PROBLEMS?

The app is based in the French Alps and as a result the default setting is in kilometres. I tend to work in minute/miles for my running and I couldn’t find out how to change from km to miles. I asked the team and they confirmed that this option is coming shortly. However, currently it works in kilometres. 

I once did something that the app didn’t expect and it directed me to an error page with a message ‘Oups that shouldn’t be there’ text on the screen. The app does display some dubious English on occasion. But that kind of makes me like it even more. It gives the app even more character. 

If you google the app, the main website you are directed to is in French. This was a bit offputting initially as my French language skills are still around GCSE level (I can ask the way to the football stadium and get a beer but that’s about it) but there is an English version if you look a couple of search results down: Run Motion Website

SUMMARY

I found the RunMotion app very professional and easy to use. I particularly liked the text message style mentoring and goal setting as it felt informal and quite an easy way to decide on my options and what I wanted to get out of the app. 

 What I like is the simplicity. It’s easy to use and easy to change. Yet it feels personal. 

I’ve used the app for it ‘speed and explosiveness’ plan and it was easy to follow. I put the session into the training calendar I use and synched my runs from my Garmin which again was very easy to set up. In a year that has been a bit chaotic and unstructured, it has been nice not to have to think about what sessions I need to plan as it has been done for me.

The app gives you 2 weeks free to trial it and then it’s £5 a month for premium version. I liked it the app so much that I recommended my husband download it and follow a plan. He’s currently asked it to train him for the 40 mile ultra he has scheduled in April. But he’s still struggling with trying to get it to add in cake stops during his run ... Maybe that’s some feedback I’ll pass back to the developers.

ABOUT RUNMOTION

      The app is designed to be useful for all abilities from runners, from beginners to seasoned athletes and for a range of terrains from mountains to treadmills!

      Over 12OK users mainly from France at present but the app is moving into the UK, USA, Belgian and Swiss markets … 

      The app is connected to Strava and a range of different GPS watches including Garmin, Polar and Suunto.

    • Positive reviews from multiple sources: "RunMotion innovates in the way it approaches the world of running and deserves to be discovered" - Runner's World."The possibility for all runner profiles to receive personalized and practical coaching in order to progress. Tested and approved!" - Nature Trail.

If you'd like to try the app, go here RunMotion or search 'RunMotion' in the Play Store or the App Store or google. You get 2 weeks free trial.

p.s. Let me know what you think!

7 Reasons Why Running Is Better Than Cycling

1. The cleaning. Dear God … ALL THE CLEANING!!
Run: You go for a run, you chuck your dirty kit in the washing machine, you chuck the dirty you in the shower.
Bike: They take AGES to clean. And there's always a bit you've missed. And then you still have to clean yourself. Only solution is to put BOTH of you in the shower. And then you still have to put oil on the important bits. 

2. Squeak! Excuse me!
Run: Irritating noise. Oh it's my arse. Easy to sort. Avoid high fibre & caffeine before run.
Bike: Irritating noise. Not easy to sort. There is ALWAYS an irritating noise. You might have cleaned, oiled and tightened every screw. But there's always a noise. And you can never locate it. And it never does it when you're in the bike shop. Disclaimer: it might still be my arse.  

3. Aeroplane arms make EVERYTHING better. Except cycling. 
Run: Aeroplane arms down the hills and around the corners.
Bike: Aeroplane arms. Splat. Extricate bike and gravel from flesh.

4. New kit day … oh. 
Run: You always want another pair of trainers. Ok. £80.
Bike: You always want another bike. Not ok. £1000 … at least. 

5. The Rules. 
Run: The rules are don't snot rocket at another runner. Don't run into them. Share snacks.
Bike: It's Bike Club. You don't talk about the rules but are expected to know them. Sleeves are mandatory. Tan lines must be strictly adhered to and be razor edged. Kit should match bike. What?

6. It has 2 wheels and some of those round things. You know. Pedals. Well, they GO round, don't they?
Run: Jargon. There's a bit but it's mainly about pacing and splits. Preferably gap between snacks and banana. 
Bike: Jargon. What is a gearset?  A crank? Seriously just call it a cog and a pedal. But not to me. I have no interest and no technical knowledge and will immediately say something like “Pedals? Yes I have those.” Before inwardly groaning and receiving either a (wo)mansplain or a patronising look. Probably both. 

7. Targets on 2 wheels
Run: Cars dislike runners. But at least there's usually a pavement you can run on or handy hedge you can leap into.
Bike: Car drivers REALLY don't like cyclists and as soon as they see cyclists cycling 2 abreast immediately lose their shit and start behaving as though they don't have control of a dangerous 2-tonne piece of metal. Seriously pensioners and Ocado lorries. Sort it out. 

And this is precisely why running is better than cycling. If you disagree, you might enjoy 6 Reasons Why Cycling is Better Than Running ... 

The Swimmer: 4 Outdoor Swims in February Separated by Cake and a Half Marathon

So Liz and I had an adventure. 

A swimming adventure.

A running adventure.

A freezing-cold no-wetsuits-allowed adventure.

An adventure with cake and swans and rivers and lakes and lidos.

Liz and Me!
See that gorgeous looking bakery behind us ... that's where we all met up!

Our adventure was The Swimmer, a 13 mile run from North to South through central London which includes 4 outdoor swims. In February. You go for a (chilly) run, have a (chilly) dip, (chilly) run to the next location, have a (chilly) dip ... and so on until you reach the final (chilly) location. After which you get into the (hot) jacuzzi. 

The event happens on the 2nd Saturday of every month from autumn to spring, October to May and is inspired by the short story The Swimmer by John Cheever, which follows the progress of a man who attempts to swim home via his neighbours’ swimming pools. 

I wasn’t sure what to expect of The Swimmer and I certainly didn’t know what to pack. We were given the option to take a large bag which travels in a van and arrives at the 2nd, 3rd and 4th swims for you but you still had to carry your necessities and everything you’d need for the 1st swim. It seemed to be a fine line between trying to choose between what I would need and what I could carry on my back. I ditched the towel, having already decided to wear a trisuit (wetsuits NOT allowed) and determined I would layer up over my quick drying suit and try and dry out on the run. I also decided not to bother with a spare swimsuit or knickers and instead use the saved space for a REALLY big woolly hat and ski gloves. I saved the BIG bag for snacks and clothes to change into which didn’t involve lycra or waterproofing properties.   

The starting point was Gail’s Cafe near Hampstead Tube station. Liz and I had no idea where this cafe was and decided we’d wing it ... hoping we’d spot some obvious swimmers on the train (goggles around necks, webbed feet or gills) and our optimism paid off when we spotted some colourful running tights and a chap with a hooded top advertising some sort of ice swim. We struck up a conversation and arrived as a group at a brightly lit cafe stuffed with French cakes and ordered a hot coffee each.  

The group of people stuffed into the cafe at 7:30am was an eclectic bunch with characters ranging from experienced cold-water swimmers (including one brave chap who had swum at every event over the winter!) to runners wanting something different to their usual winter run training. And then there was me. Who enjoys swimming in (warm) lakes in the summer, while tucked snugly into a wetsuit and with a cup of coffee and biscuits waiting for me after I climbed out of the balmy waters. I suspected I might be in for a cold awakening.  However everyone was very friendly, welcoming and wanted to chat and share their swim stories. 

We eventually prised ourselves from the lovely warm cafe and wandered shivering out into the cold street for the start. It was very relaxed. After loading our big bags into the convenient van, loading our essential kit bags onto our backs and adjusting the swimsuits under our clothes - and hoping they didn’t chafe or rub – we set off at a gentle run pace through the prettier parts of Hampstead.

We soon came onto the heath proper, undulating trails and tree-shaded paths. It was cold, but gorgeous and early enough to only see the hardcore runners and the occasional dog walker. The run was short and we arrived at the Hampstead natural ponds within about ten minutes. These are 3 ponds of the 30 in the Hampstead Heath area dug in the 17^th & 18^th centuries as reservoirs and fed by the headwater springs of the River Fleet.

Yes .. it was still VERY early ...

Two of the three ponds are for single-sex bathing and we were to swim at the Men’s Ponds. To get to these you enter via the old fashioned open-air changing rooms. It felt very Victorian which added to the charm and the ladies were told to avert their eyes while moving through the men’s changing section. 

Not knowing what to expect of the swim, what to bring, I’d decided to wear a trisuit (basically a swimsuit with legs used for triathlon) and layer up over the top of it for the runs. So neoprene cap, trisuit and goggles ... and my waterproof camera on a strap on my head. Coming out of the wooden changing rooms, the pools lay in front of us, quiet and serene.  To get into the pools, you walked along a long wooden-planked boardwalk and descended into the quiet water via steps.

I was expecting a burning, freezing cold but this wasn’t what it was like. It was chill and greenly opaque but not painfully cold but I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to warm up to run. Could I run after a cold swim? I’d certainly find out. 

After my swim and wearing ALL the clothes.

I didn’t stay in for long. I’d had my dip and aware that it was early February and I had limited experience of cold water swimming, I clambered out using the steps and made my way up to the charming wooden changing rooms to layer up my clothes.  

It was a relaxed 1 mile run to the next swim at the Parliament Hill Lido. Having chatted to the others, they’d told me that this swim was the toughest as you hadn’t been running for long enough to warm up on the run from the swim at the pools. The lido was built low to the ground and as you ran towards it through the park, Parliament Hill was visible on the right, usually seen by a club runner with hundreds of cross country runners descending it with spikes churning the ground and breath huffing out into the chill air. The lido lay grey and regal in its 1930s style waiting for us all top come in and enter the cool blue water. It was built in 1938 and is open all year round. You can quite easily imagine bright 1930s and 40s posters of brightly capped swimmers splashing through the blue waters. It feels old-fashioned and lovely, the age of proper swimmers with floral caps and vintage swimsuits. The lido is Grade 2 listed and when it was built in 1938 it cost £34,000 – a great cost at that time for a lido. 

Guess where ...

I stepped from under the stone entryway and entered the lido via the swimming-pool-style steps. The coolness of the water took my breath away in a way the pond hadn’t. Maybe it looking similar to an indoor swimming pool had made me expect the warmth of a pool, but the clear blue waters were deceptively chill. I swam down to the 2^nd set of steps in a slow crawl putting my face in the water. Swimming in an outdoor pool as an adult was new to me. It was strange swimming in cold waters as clear as these and the thick paint on the stone sides took me back to my childhood and swimming in the outdoor pool in Street with my sister while my Auntie and Uncle watched from the picnic blanket on the grass at the poolside. I remember those summer days at Street as always hot and the ice cream as the most delicious and the jerk of nostalgia was strong.

I made a beginners’ error after my swim and taking advantage of available showers, stepped briefly under the strong hot water before remembering that this was exactly what you shouldn’t do after an outdoor swim as apparently it brings the blood to your skin and can make you lightheaded. Not what you need when you still have 11 miles to run and 2 outdoors swims to go. I hastily turned the shower to cold and stood under it for a few minutes, bringing the coolness back to my chill skin. 

The dash for the bananas ...

I layered my clothes on top of my drying trisuit, buff on neck, gloves on hands and hat on head and went to join the other swimrunners at the front of the lido for a banana and a drink.

It was 5 miles to the next swim in the Serpentine and the group of runners spread out as people took advantage of the longer distance to chat and relax into their easy paces. We had a brief stop at Primrose Hill for photographs and I popped my video camera on to try to film some of the route as I ran. It was a lovely run, past London Zoo, past bemused early morning walkers and across some busy roads but people clapped as we passed, cars let us cross – except for the taxis of course – and small children stared as we zipped past them on our soft-soled running shoes.

Primrose Hill (Beautiful but VERY cold!)

We chatted as we ran. One lady was training for Brighton marathon and was on for her 4 hour goal ... having missed it by mere seconds last time, another swimrunner was an obstacle course racer – but wanted a change from the mud and furious paced runs today, others were speedy marathoners and dedicated ultrarunners. It was a real mix but the common thing was that everyone was friendly and welcoming. It really did seem true that the message on the website “If you’re nice, you’ll fit in” was true. 

We ran through Hyde Park, full of horse tracks and feeling not at all as if it were in Central London and crossed the river to arrive at The Serpentine, a 40 acre recreational lake which takes its name from the curving snakelike shape – despite having only one bend.  We were swimming at Lansbury’s Lido which was opened in 1930 and this morning was being patrolled only by swans, no swimmers.

The changing rooms weren’t open yet so the women braved the grassy banks decorated with winter twigs and green swan poo to get changed, while the men stood on the cold pavement to disrobe. Head down, removing layers and relieved again to be wearing my trisuit and not have to show my white winter skin to the cold rain, biting wind or occasional dog walker, I put on my neoprene swim hat, adjusted my goggles and went to brave The Serpentine. The water was cold and green and there were beady-eyed swans between me and where I wanted to get out. The water was cold but in February I should have expected this. The water had originally come from the River Westbourne and Tyburn Brook and then pumped from the Thames, but it now comes from three boreholes within Hyde Park rather than the Arctic Ocean … which is what it felt like. After avoiding an iceberg or two, I tried to get out but this wasn’t as easy as it looked. Avoiding the swans, I tried to climb the sides but they appeared to be coated in glass and grease and I slid backwards. My fellow swimmers were having the same problems. The swans were laughing. 

Finally extricating myself from the water, I layered up, caked up and got started on the final 6 miles to the Rockwell Lido. The swims were only part of the attraction of our swim-run adventure, the chat and the camaraderie between the runners, passing London Zoo, navigating the busy-ness of Knightsbridge and Clapham Common and the sharing of  stories were what made our mid-February pan-London journey.  

Powered by chatter and cake, we arrived at Brockwell Park and the Grade II listed lido came into sight. The Brockwell Lido looks very similar to Parliament Hill Lido and both had the same designers; Harry Rowbotham and TL Smithson. Brockwell Lido was built in 1937 to replace the bathing pond but closed in 1990 re-opening again in 1994 after a local campaign and is now open every day, all year round. 

I was looking forward to my final swim, sad that my mini-adventure was over but I’d heard rumours on the run. Interesting rumours about massive breakfasts and a hot tub. These sort of rumours are especially interesting to someone who had an early start, 4 cold - but enjoyable - swims and a 13 mile trot through London.

I stepped into the Brockwell Lido, carefully using the shiny silver steps and adjusting my swimming cap, feeling as though I was a 1930s lady in one of the posters stepping into the inviting blue waters of a lovely pool. It was quite a shock that the water wasn’t half as warm as it looked, but the naughty joy of swimming outdoors in February under a winter sky quite made up for that. 

And the rumours about the lido having a hot tub were quite true.

Fancy a go at the Swimmer? Open from Autumn to Spring, it’s £20 entry including, guided 13 mile run, 4 swims, cake and bananas. More info here: http://www.theswimmer.org 

Information from here: 

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highgate_Ponds 
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parliament_Hill_Lido 
3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brockwell_Park_Lido
4. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Serpentine
5. http://www.theswimmer.org/faq.html 
6. http://www.theswimmer.org

Silverstone Half Marathon Report: Never Trust a Zombie

I desperately held onto the car door as the slavering zombie on the other side tried to get into the car to get at me. This was the worst race start EVER. I’d woken up to find my friends had left me behind and now there were ZOMBIES stopping me getting to the start of Silverstone Half Marathon. 

And then I’d woken up. To a thankfully zombie-free bedroom. 

It didn’t matter how the race went today; terrible pacing, forgetting my gels ... even losing a trainer wouldn’t be so bad ... at least I would be able to say with absolute certainty there would be no evil dead trying to eat me.

Despite my lets-be-positive thoughts, the drive was very much like the start of a horror film, with thick fog and misty lanes meaning that fog lights and a slow start were a certainty. Not having an undead-killing-axe, I kept the car doors locked. The roads however were fairly clear and it was an easy drive until the slow down on the A43 as we got closer to the race circuit. However, the race organisers had anticipated this and we were directed smoothly through Silverstone village, through fields and onto service roads and the car was parked within 20 minutes.

The forecast had been for a very warm day ...warm for for March in England anyway. But it was currently very cold. And I badly needed to pee. I had the difficult job of trying to judge the balance between ‘not leaving it to late in case of a loo queue’ and ‘not getting out a nice warm car too early’. 

So close ... yet still TWENTY MINUTES away ...

Hopped out of the car and spotted 3 portaloos at the end of the car park, with a queue already snaking back 100m. With a good selection of non-runners in the queue. Grrr. While I appreciate that non-runners ALSO have to pee, there is nothing like pre-race nerves to make the runners need the loo just a little more urgently. I’m a firm advocate of non-runners having to cross their legs until the race starts and THEN using the suddenly-empty toilets. 

Yep. I’m a Toilet Nazi.  

Despite my mutterings about non-runners in MY toilet queue, I WAS pleased I’d remembered my nice warm hoody, my extra thick buff and my gloves ... but I was still freezing. Standing still in a chilly car park waiting to pee does nothing for my pre-race nerves. Or pre-race temper. Especially when it’s pre-coffee time. And when there’s no guaranteed supply of toilet roll. 

20 minutes passed with glacial slowness. I was going to pee my pants in a minute. And probably be grateful for the warmth. I started shivering and debating internally whether it would be bad taste to bellow: “PEE QUICKER!!! It’s bloody freezing out here!” 

Please, Race Directors .,.. more toilets! Loo queues so long you can strike up lifelong friendships AREN’T a selling point! Even if it does slightly calm the nerves bitching about the expected lack of loo roll and blocked toilets. 

I eventually made my way into and out of The Poo Tardis and collected my kit from the car. As usual, the bigger the drop bag, the more I feel I need to fill it with. With the size of the Silverstone HM kit bag I could survive 2 ultras and an overnight camp.

Hooray! Loz and Rae are here!!

As per usual as soon as I got the race start I needed another wee. It’s like a pavlovian response – I see a banner proclaiming ‘start’ and I immediately start hopping around desperate for the loo. I’d probably even get this after days of dehydration. Luckily Rae and Loz deduced where I’d be and after I finally exited they spotted me and we did our pre-race ritual of ‘bananas all round’ like a circle of lycra-clad chimps. Also spotted Danny whose race Hope 24 I’d enjoyed supporting at last year (instead of ‘supporting’ read ‘eating snacks at’) who was also racing today.

It was still a chilly morning so I was loath to undress but I was concerned about having time to do a warm up (get me - all keen!) and how long I’d have to wait to hand my kit bag in but it was seamless. Walk up – hand kit bag over. Done. I’d handed in my lovely toasty gloves and warm jumper but I had my bin bag so I popped it on doing my finest impression of a bag lady with a lycra fetish. But I was a WARM bag lady with a lycra fetish.   

People started moving towards the start pens, but there was no space in the race village to warm up – it was just too busy. But I needn’t have worried as there was a nice smooth area of track behind the start pens that I could use for my warm up. I tried to do this in my bin bag but the rustling made me sound like I was herding snakes so I took it off and held it like a black plastic security blanket. Did the usual drills, bit of high knees, back kicks. Didn't trust myself to grapevine or run backwards as my coordination is shocking even when I'm not nervous at the start of a race. No point damaging myself before I’d even started. If it all went to hell during the race I could always PRETEND to fall down and break my leg but I didn’t really want to do this by accident before the starters gun even went off.  

I found a nice spot in the correct timing pen and after huffing at the men spotting the girl in their starting pen *gasp - the cheek!* and positioning themselves in front of me as they’d ‘automatically be quicker’, I spotted another girl who was wearing one pink trainer and one green trainer. Tapped her on shoulder to ask about them. Apparently they were a pair rather than an accident. I know it's bad form to buy shoes judging on whether they're 'pretty' or not but I thought these were great!

I’d set my watch up to pace the run at between 6:45min/miles and 7:15min/miles. I haven’t done any road racing for about 2 years so didn’t have a clue how I’d feel and I didn’t know whether the lack of running miles would be a problem. I’d planned a negative split and to go out at 7:15 min/miles which would be about a 1:35 half marathon but decided to go for broke. And decided to see how far I was from my PB. Hell. I could always walk it in, right?

… why does it always seem a good idea to do something different and new about 10 minutes before the race starts??

At the start. Not sure why they're all saluting. Maybe it was a 'hands up who wants a PB' poll that I missed.

As always at the start of any race, it feels like the whole field streams past me. I know I started in the right place and in the right pen but it’s difficult to ignore people and trust your own pace, run your own race … especially when it feels like you're going backwards. I was also slightly concerned that 50% of my pre-race nightmare had come true ... everyone appeared to have left me. I started looking nervously around for the zombies. 

Right. Check watch. Yep. On pace. But I started worrying and doubting my watch when it told me I was running 7:03 m/miles but the mile markers told me 7:22s. That was a big gap. However, it had been so long since I ran a road race I'd made a rookie error and forgotten about the gap between the start time and the time crossing the line. I didn't even twig until about 5 miles in. Just assumed I was miles off pace but all I could do was judge it by my own running watch. Glad I didn't try to speed up to reclaim those seconds. 

Absolutely no wee-ing allowed at this race. Ever.

I settled into the run a bit more and started to take notice of the runners around me; lady in a pink top, man in a yellow top and a man in a cancer for children top all were with me most of the way although I lost them and they lost me every now and then, we were all running a similar pace. We passed more people than we were passed by … probably all the enthusiastic positive-splitters at the start but I did do a double take when I was passed by a man with a cigarette behind his ear ... Then realised it was the white end of his sunglasses. Phew! 

We all got passed by a man wearing an orange jumpsuit and a space helmet covering his entire head. He was speeding past everyone and despite the heat and his heavy clothes, we didn't see him again. Must have knocked in a brilliant time. Also saw Tony Bowe, a club friend, 100 marathoner and ultra runner ahead of me at about 6 miles. He was going for a faster time than his half marathon the previous week and was storming it - was about 6 minutes up on his time but the heat was making it tough. Hope he hit it! Also got some proper belting cheers from Mac about 8 miles! Thanks Lovely!

I remember running Silverstone Half Marathon in 2013 and finding it so SO hard. I’d had a horrible virus and and was feeling dreadful and thoroughly hated it. It was a lot easier this time, no real headwinds and I didn't feel like I needed to lie down every mile (it was a hellish race last time) and this year I thoroughly enjoyed it up until about 9 miles. At which point I wanted to lie down. Standard in a half marathon I think. Last time I was on antibiotics and felt really tired and sick but really needed the time to estimate my marathon time for Paris. I remember I’d started fading from mile 4 (not surprising considering how I felt) but had still managed a 2 minute PB on my previous best time. 

I was using the Torq banoffee gels (thanks to a Wiggle voucher sent by TD Investing) as my race fuel and they were really tasty - it was like having a mini pudding to look forward to. I was finding that I needed water to have them with but this wasn’t a problem as I carry a bottle of water with me on half marathons and marathons like a little sloshy security blanket. The gels were amazing but very sticky and since I have a hatred of littering, I stuck the packets back in my race belt and managed to stick everything to my phone which was also in there. If I really started struggling, I could crack open a gel and stick myself to a faster runner passing by. 

I was really pleased with my pacing as had been knocking out steady 7:03 and 7:04 min/ miles and it was about this point when I slowed to grab a water and only dropped a second that I realised that the watch was on average pace overall not average pace per mile. Argh! So I'd actually slowed a LOT to drop that overall. Bugger. I found out afterwards that my miles were reasonably even apart from mile 12 which I dropped a lot of time – about 20 secs for this mile alone. I’d used a new setting on the watch ... yes, yes I know ... nothing new on race day and set up a 13.1 ‘workout’ but I didn’t realise that this option knocked out the average miles and the laps. Frustrating to find this out late in the race. And if I’d known I had slowed this much, I’d like to think I would have been able to pick the pace back up. Never mind. At least I found out before any big races. 

I would also be using my ‘it was a warm day’ to excuse my slacking in the last mile. Apparently it was the hottest Silverstone Half Marathon ever … but it was hardly 30 degrees and heatstroke weather. However, I did appear to be working on my sun tan early this year with my race vest outlined in red on my usually pasty white shoulders. I also had a matching red nose. This running is SO glamourous. Don’t believe ANY runner that says they run to keep in shape unless that shape is a badly chafed, toenail-less, sunburned kind of a shape. 

The Silverstone racecourse is almost entirely flat apart from some slight inclines and some very short sharp bumps where it crosses bridges over the track and and I'd been careful to take the corners really tight. There was a fair amount of space between the runners and it was fairly easy to keep it tight and take the shortest line, so it was gutting when my watch ticked over the magical 13.1 distance when there was clearly still about 400m to go. I could see the digital clock over the finish line and when it ticked over 1 hour 34 minutes I knew it would be close to me getting a PB today … if only I could remember how long it took me to cross the line at the start …!

I really gave it some welly (you can take the girl out of Dorset …) but even going at my best just-cross-the-damn-finish-line-and-get-done speed I was pretty sure I’d missed my previous PB time. 

Longest. Sprint. Ever. 

Chip removed, medal attained and over-priced finishers photograph taken I went to claim my baggage. More specifically items in my baggage. Even MORE specifically the PB creme egg in my baggage. 

I may not have been sure of my finishers time, but I was damn sure I’d run under a 7:08 min/mile pace. Which was most certainly a pace PB.

I’d like to say I enjoyed the creme egg. But it didn’t really have a chance to reach my taste buds. I practically inhaled it. 

Best creme egg EVER. 

Results:

3.5 minute course PB. 

Pace PB: 7:06 min/miles

Time: 1:34:21
Strava

Also thanks to TD Investing who sent out £100 Wiggle voucher which meant I could buy some gels and the top I was wearing (among other kit!). Much appreciated! They sent out several to runners and triathletes on Twitter and I was one of the lucky ones!