The Logical Place To Start Looking

Today the oddly named ‘Not The Roman IX’. The name came from the original sponsors back in 1968, Roman Motors, and when the race was over nine miles. Eight years ago the host venue was changed to the Sports and Social Club of NFU Mutual in Tiddington, which is just outside Stratford upon Avon. The change to the start and finish meant a new distance of 12k. So at least we’re both guaranteed a PB as neither of us have done a 12k before. It’s also going to be a frosty one, its -3 when we leave home. Time for long sleeves I think.

The race organisation was pretty faultless, they was also chip timing and a nice cotton t-shirt at the end. I, for one, am getting a bit sick of technical ones. I have to go for a run four times a day now just to use all the ones I have acquired.

The start was a km down the road which made for a nice little workout for my father who had come to support. Route wise, it was hardly exciting but that’s fine by me. They said there was one climb just before half-way, although I’m sure the road started going upwards at about 3.5k. Then it was downhill into the only civilisation on route, the village of Loxley. It was quite a steep downhill section which they had thoughtfully gritted. Around there was the first of two water stations, not that I partook at either.

There was a final short kick upwards near the end followed by a slightly downhill run over the last km to the finish. Out of just over 600 entrants, I come in 148th or something like that. My time is nothing special but is at the right pace to break my Half Marathon PB, should I be able to maintain it for 13 miles. Which is my project at the moment.

When we drop my father off, my mother offers us Sunday lunch. Which is great and very welcome. Unfortunately this stuffs up our plans of a film and meal at Broadway this evening on the grounds (a) we’re now running late and (b) we’re stuffed, but all in a nice way and you can’t have everything.

Instead we head to the South Side of Nottingham, continuing the quest perhaps for the Midnight Owl. The Canalhouse would have been a good place to start, if it wasn’t shut. So we head to the Vat & Fiddle, which being effectively the brewery tap you would have thought might have been the logical place to start looking. We certainly could have saved ourselves some shoe leather because there it was on the bar.

A very pleasant night ensues and it’s just one of several decent ales on the bar tonight. We ought to come here more than once every couple of years.

(Sunday 15th January)

A Race Of Two Halves

A half marathon today in Newark, which I’m regarding as a training run. As I will next week’s in Leek. I’ve been injured you know. The overriding aim is to get up to something approaching a PB by Nottingham on 11th September. Then go quicker at Birmingham and Cardiff in October.

Parking is great, we were warned about parking charges applying on a Sunday but in the end we parked in the street, just behind the start, for free. Can’t get better than that.

It’s the 30th anniversary of this race which is another reason to do it. L likes being inaugural, I like being celebratory. The race started out as a humble six-miler, which due to the explosion in the popularity of running in the early 1980’s could no longer cope with the amount of people wanting to run it and so the half marathon was born.

They’re also saying it could be the last due to the increasing costs associated with road closures along with the introduction of chip timing and technical t-shirts for this year. True, the start on Appletongate is very narrow and congested, so probably warrants chip timing because some of the 1,000 runners will take a while to cross the start line. They could of course always look to move the start, it was very chaotic getting everybody into position in the reduced space they have at the current location but that is probably easier said than done.

The t-shirt argument is less clear cut. Probably only two years ago getting a technical t-shirt from a race was a rarity, now they’re all doing it. So that I don’t have to do any clothes shopping, my wardrobe requires a mix of normal t-shirts as well as technical ones. So personally I think that’s an unnecessary change. Hopefully the race will go on next year because generally it’s a very well organised and popular race.

We start and I try to get myself into a steady pace, around 7:30 per mile but my overriding aim is to not do any miles in over 8:00, which I almost but don’t quite achieve. My pace is too steady at first but it reaps benefits. In the crowded start I end up running behind a young girl whose running kit, or lack of it, renders her practically naked. Imagine skimpy running top matched with skimpy running shorts. She also has a belt around her waist on which she is carrying a drinks bottle and, I think, a GPS. The weight of which, as she runs along, gradually tugs her already low slung shorts lower and lower. By now it’s getting quite crowded behind her as runners gather, ok male runners gather, to see how far she’ll let them go before she rescues the situation.

Sadly for me, the pace is just too slow and I give up my front row position, overtake her and push on. I wasn’t interested anyway but if anyone knows what happened next please feel free to let me know.

About three miles in I get myself into a little group, a sensibly clothed group, all running at about my pace. I like little groups; it makes me feel like I’m in a real race.

The race itself is a race of two halves. The first half was through a few housing estates and was a bit boring, well apart from the girl losing her shorts, whereas the second half took us out in to some pleasant countryside and through Balderton and Coddington.



There are six drinks stations which, as it’s a fairly warm day, is a good thing but as they only have plastic cups and I can’t drink out of plastics cups, it affects my rhythm a touch. Each time I grab a drink, and I do at five of the stops, I have to walk a bit in order not to tip it all down my front.

It also means that each time I lose touch with my group and have to work my way back up to them. I do this three times but after the third time a few in the group decide to push on just as I get back to them. I see this as a rather cruel trick that is usually employed by racing cyclists. In reality, they were just doing their own thing I’m sure. Either way I hadn’t got the legs to go with them.

In fact I die at bit at that point, at around nine miles, but on only two weeks training, with a longest distance of nine miles, it wasn't exactly surprising. A gel boost at 10.5 miles manages to get me through the rest of the race.

Still, the last thing I needed was a crazy woman with a hose pipe at one of the later water stations. I manage to dodge her and only get one leg wet. Admittedly some people like to run through water but where she was standing she was practically unavoidable.

Someone told me this is race is flat, it isn't. It isn’t particularly hilly either but I wouldn’t call it flat. Between mile 11 and 12 we seemed to be gradually climbing uphill all the time. Someone also said it was downhill from the 12 mile point, it isn't. Well it is, until the final kick uphill to the line in the Market Place.

I cross the line in 1:41. Happy but not ecstatic with that. A minute less would have been perfect. I’m knackered but not as bad as the chap who finished after me whom after lifting his foot to an attendant to have his timing chip removed, seized up and had to be fireman lifted away by the St Johns' Ambulance people. Oh dear.

The technical t-shirts are only being issued in large for men and medium for women. So they tended to look big on almost everyone. Another reason to go back to normal t-shirts.

The queue for the massages is too long, so I head back to the car, change my shirt and head off up the course to meet L. I miss her again, as I did the other week. If she’s going to bomb round in 2:12 every week I’m going to have to get my act together. I return to the finish area to find her checking in all the ambulances for me. Bless.

L says it’s the perfect day. We head home, chill in the bath, chill in the bedroom, then chill in the pub with Sunday lunch and cheeseboard. Almost worth running for.

(Sunday 14th August)