A Harrier, a Fat Rascal and a Chocolate Eclair walk into a bar…
After a two-and-a-half year hiatus, October saw me make a long-awaited return to the marathon. With the training block featuring a sub-40 10k and a half marathon PB, I went into this with optimism despite an IT band flare up hampering the last couple weeks.
Despite a full day walking round York and a carb load to make Adam Richman proud, I rocked up feeling pretty fresh. The morning weather was cool and sunny, perfect racing conditions. I tried to catch Cat at the start line but the usual pre-race admin took a while to get through.
The race sets out on a long downhill (more on that to come) before heading through central York. I caught Mrs N – who went for breakfast with another spectator she met – at York Minster, then it was off into the country. A back-and-forth with a 3:15 pacer group trying to bank time had me fretting, so it was head down staring at the watch for a few k.
10k in 45 minutes put me in firm ‘A’ goal territory, but the pacers pulling away was cause for concern. In hindsight I hadn’t practiced enough with my new high-carb gels. I reined it in slightly leading up to the mile 10 hill and settled in for the ride. Not many spectators at this point but a big group was around me. Hitting the halfway point in 1:36 was great but it felt like my fastest spell was behind me.
From here the course drops to a wide A road; out-and-back to Stamford Bridge, a big spectator point, and straight on for a few miles to another u-turn. Two Prior turn opportunities, both too wide to try properly – poor show from the organisers on an otherwise faultless day.
30k came in 2:18. Aside from one stop to get a stone out my shoe the pace was still decent. From here the legs got heavy. The calculations were churning in my brain about what time I had in the bank. 37k and a walking stop was needed. Fueling and strength work are firmly on the agenda for next time. Plenty runners were cruising past me, including a man attempting a world record dressed as a chocolate eclair – fair play.
Mercifully, York came into sight, and with it the return back up the hill from the start. Absolutely horrible, and this from a man who spent 5 years with Glasgow’s premier hill running club.
I hit the top, and a look at the watch told me a PB was in the bag if I could just stay on my feet for another few hundred metres. I wobbled over the line in 3:24; not quite the time I had in mind but a PB I will absolutely take. Harry Styles ran 3:24 in Tokyo last year, then went sub-3 in Berlin, so the omens are good.
Mrs N was there to greet me at the finish with a Fat Rascal cake, a cross between a scone and a rock bun. I was jokingly calling them Fat Bastards all weekend, which sums up my subsequent late afternoon in York. After a few beers and a pizza at Northern Monk, a Yorkshire pudding wrap and half of the local Sainsbury’s were consumed back in the room watching Hotel Transylvania on the TV. Everything but a chocolate eclair.
Marathons are mad challenges; in the space of minutes you can go from cruising along to cursing why you even signed up. One day I’ll get that last 10k right and that, somewhat frustratingly, is what keeps me coming back.
I’ve a few weeks to run for the fun of it and maybe chip away at some Parkrun PBs, then it’s Manchester in April.
