While I wish ill on no man, to hear Ken was under the weather and on anti-biotics was almost a relief. In the end I got terrible sneezes and snivels on Friday and almost cried off myself. By Sat. evening I was feeling close to 75% and after a glass of red wine felt I would give it a go.
Ken turned up too. His comment on the start line was "It's all your fault, if you were not moving to Geneva I would have been in bed or on an easy five miles." Well, I guess the race was preferable to a lifetime of abuse on the subject!
The guys presented me with a brilliant t-shirt, pictures below.
My race strategy was negative split and to get behind Ken at the start. There was no way I wanted to run the race waiting for him to come through.
After Ken had finished chatting up all the ladies they could start the race. I checked his position some twenty people ahead of me and decided that was fine and locked in at that. Choppy start with too many people for the path so the marshals had a hard time keeping everyone on the pavement. All settled before the first mile which I made around 8 mins, but was quicker as I'd got the start wrong. Still not too sure where it was.
Anyway the pace increased slightly as Ken made his way through the pack, taking the optimal viewing route at every possibility. My black compression socks were also being worn by some of the more fashion conscious young female competitors. By now I was right on Ken's shoulder and he had no idea I was there. He nearly sent some guy in a club vest flying and I could not resist a comment as I drew level. Ken was surprised to see me. We went along at just over 7 min mile pace and clearly neither of us was red lining as we were able to chat a few words.
I thought about dropping him a couple of times, but wanted a slow outward half and staying with Ken delivered on that. 36:20 at 5 miles and somewhere between 4 and 5 I eased away from Ken. At the 5 mile mark I could hear some big effort behind me and some very wheezy huffing and puffing. Ratchet. Relax the arms. Think form. Head up. Away. Don't look back, you can never look back.
Moving through the field now. Take a sharp turn and the huffer and puffer is back. Bother, I'm thinking this could be Ken trying to do another GUC to me so it's ratchet two. I make the work on the hill (I'm supposed to be stronger on the hills), focus on paced recovery on the downhills and try to shake the huffer. No joy. There was a massive puddle right across the road before the bridge back over the M1. The marshals were putting us over to the muddy grass at the side. Group of 7 ahead and I processed two possible routes
a) right through the water (rejected on the basis of 3 more to go, too many to do soaked then
b) accelerate past the group, jump over the water to the kerb, under the trees, back out though the mud and by pushing of on the kerb I figured I could just make it to the shallows.
b) was a go.
Full speed and a jump got me in front of the lead guy and the last bit got me into 20mm of water so I just kept dry feet. Recovered to the top of the hill and the huffer goes past. Zut alors! The best bit is, it is not Ken!
By now I've lost count of numbers past since half way, it must be around 20 and I still feel good. 3 more miles and I kick slightly to see if I can over take the 6 people between me and a little chap that might be Paul. Kick again at 8. Get by the huffer! Kick at 9. On my own now and long way to the next group. Focus hard on form and keeping the effort high.
Dig deep and start closing the gap at half to go. Go around the last bend first marshal tells me I am 100th position and a lady marshal reads the look on my face and shouts "400m to go mate - kick", I nod and just a shade higher stride gets me the acceleration I need to close in on the back guy in the group. There is a dip and I catch him at the bottom of the hollow where I see my Running Fource buddies and they all raise a cheer as I go past. I accelerate in response to full speed and a guy in a red top responds and we are level and locked in mortal combat for the coveted prize of 97th place - this stuff is important - and the Rocket Inside was unleashed for the final time on English soil and I got him! Chest dip got me over the line before him and I crashed right over the line through the funnel over the tape and into the crowd. Two spectators caught me and pushed me back into the funnel.
I had to agree that elite Simon's analysis was sound. To finish like that clearly meant I could have gone faster sooner. But the time of 1:10:29 was ok. I did a negative split, but not enough to get under the 70. Given the whole build up I'm cool with that. Pleased to finish ahead of the sick Kenny and his ghost pushed me in the second half.
Paul's stonking performance is exactly two week's all inclusive holiday better than me and he's agreed to fix that in August.
So I'm off to the Swiss mountains and lake. See ya!
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