This morning in church I was wondering what kind of liturgical incident would preclude Viv from being able to run the Great Bentley half marathon this morning. Nothing sufficient happened so on a wet, windy and bloody cold morning we were lining up with the rest of the field – 600 plus deferrals from last year. No problems re loo queues or numbers.
It wasn’t as windy as the first year I ran the race; or maybe with 6 years’ more running experience I didn’t mind it so much. By mile 2 we were very definitely at the back of the race, but that’s OK. It’s a flat, fast course ideal for PB setting so very few people would be doing it for the fun of it, and they probably took one look at the weather and went back to bed.
This was another race I ran as ‘domestique.’ No way fit enough to aim for the elusive sub-2hr; therefore it seemed helpful to run at Viv’s pace, aiming for sub 2hr30, keeping her company. The rain stopped a few minutes into the race as the feeling briefly came back into my fingers and face.
Overall it was a good run; my foot hurt for the first two miles but that pain went once I was into a rhythm and had other things to think about. Like the sense of uncomfortable from the rubbing of the seam at the edge of a hole in my shorts – numbed by the cold it wasn’t until I was in the shower I saw exactly how bad that was. Let’s just say I shall be walking awkwardly for a little while.
Miles 7,8,9 and 10 seemed quite short, which was nice. I ran with Viv up until mile 12 when I really couldn’t stop the way my legs were going so finished one or two places ahead of her. I was pleased overall as I had been worried that the ghosts of the Royal Parks horribleness would come back to haunt me. And if there is one thing I know, it is that my ability to finish the race relies as much on the inner coach beating the crap out of the inner critic as it does on my general fitness…
2:27:50 was my watch time.