Richmond 13.1 Half Marathon Race Report

When I sat down and wrote my plan for racing and training this year, I noticed there was a distinct lack of races around the end of March.  I can't remember who suggested it first (it may have been me) but a Kingston Wheelers clubmate of mine and I ended up entering the Richmond 13.1 Half Marathon.  At the time this seemed like a good idea - and it was - but things didn't go exactly to plan.

March for me, was a nightmare.  There wasn't a single day or night where I didn't have to spend an inordinate amount of time working in my University's library.  A succession of deadlines for important coursework, presentations and data collection for my research project didn't just impede training but made it near impossible.   This meant my preparation for this race wasn't fantastic, but I thought I'd go for it anyway.

When I entered the race, going by my 10km PB, I thought I may just have been in with a shot to sneak in under 1:25.  The poor training leading up to this race made this pretty much impossible, but I thought  I'd go out at sub-1:25 pace and see if I could hold on....

Morning of the race didn't start well.  Given the technology at my disposal, I thought one of my alarms would be able to handle daylight savings time.  I was wrong.  I woke myself up half an hour after I'd planned and the frantic panic to get some breakfast and catch the first available bus began.  I made it to the race HQ with 10mins to spare and still needed to change my shoes, get my race number on and get over to the start line.  I made it with seconds to spare and snuck under the fencing next to the 1.25 pacer, meeting up with my clubmate in the process.

Before I knew it, we were off.  I was determined not to go out too fast and made a conscious effort to keep to around 1.25 pace.  During my training, I'd noticed if I start off a little slower than planned pace, I can build the pace up and finish strongly so was really hoping for a negative split at this race.  After a few miles, the 1.25 pacer was still in sight and I was feeling OK.  I'd settled into a good rhythm and was working well with a small group.

The route then turned down along the Thames and I was really beginning to enjoy myself.  It was a lovely sunny day in SW London and the route along the river was almost picturesque.  Then the footpath ended.  The surface turned into a mass of puddles, broken concrete and mud.  Wonderfully flat as it was, the surface was brutal on the legs and completely disrupted the rhythm I'd settled in to.  I think mentally more than anything, this was beginning to hurt.  Finishing that segment, I couldn't help noticing a 12mile marker facing the other direction.  The route doubled back on itself and I was going to have to do it all over again in a few miles.  Nuts.

Mile 8 was a tough one.  The route was now back on concentre but my lack of experience running longer distance was beginning to show.  I think more than anything it was my mental strength which failed me at this point as the pace stayed OK but my perceived effort was racking up.  My average pace was slipping but  I was still around 6:40 - 6:45 which I would have been quite happy with.  I took on board a gel, though it didn't seem to make any difference and the expected energy boost never came.

Soon after the 9mile marker, I entered that hateful river segment again.  Now,  calves that were starting to whither, I really struggled on the surface.  Leaping over puddles was no longer possible and a couple of times I came all too close to rolling my ankle.  This was hard.  This was hurting like a 10km but for so much longer.  The lack of training was also starting to make itself known and my lap paces were tumbling.  But then joy of joys, the tarmac returned.  Never before have I appreciated flat concrete like that.  My average pace had now slipped to 6:45 - 6:50, but I was OK with that, it was still a comfortable sub-1.30.

Then I came to the turnaround.  Flooding due to the high tides had forced a course alteration and this necessitated a 180 degree turn in the road just after the 12mile marker.  I wasn't even really aware of what was happening until I was nearly upon the marker, and I was moving too quickly.  The ice all over the path and my momentum sent me flying to the ground, smacking my head and winding myself on my HR belt.  I lay there for a minute as I tried to get some air into my lungs before I got back to my feet.  I struggled through the last mile, but knew a sub-1.30 was now out of the question.

I finished with a chip time of 1.30:56 and I'm gutted to be honest.  In no way is it a poor time - I should be pleased with it really - but given that I was on for a far faster time and this was only prevented by a single mistake is devastating.

Never mind.  There's always the next race.

During the race, whilst not on the floor, I was mostly singing...