Seems that this idea of mine to confront the wind demons of Southsea is doomed to failure. For the second week in a row the plan was to dawdle south from my house, turn the corner at the far eastern end of the seafront, stand tall, shoulders back, reveal the S on my chest and run into the wind like a man.... then, return to my normal scuffling self and limp home having slayed the doubt in my mind that keeps telling me I'm going to cave at the 8 mile mark (again).
Last year I'd trained a lot harder than I have this time around. I'd come in for a lot of stick at work for having dared to enjoy myself in 2010 and post an (apparently) sedate 1h:36, so wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. I publicly had a target of 1h:25 and was confident I could beat it with a private aim of sub 1h:20. Things went pretty much to plan in the early stages. I shunted my way near to the front of my start wave (if you start at the back you will spend a lot of energy sidestepping people) and went with the flow of the runners around me. I felt good and the miles ticked by. Not that I've run a lot of 10k races (one in fact) but I smashed my PB for that distance mid race, and then it started to get hard. I was slowing now, but still well ahead of schedule, and at mile eight I worked out that I was heading for a time around 1:18 if I could just hold my pace..... I couldn't. I turned the corner and ran into the strongest hurricane Southsea had ever known (but that no one else noticed). Just keep going, just keep going...... During those last two miles of I made two discoveries. First that the Bupa Nine Mile Boost Zone is actually before the nine mile marker (when you are that knackered 200 yards are important you know) and second that it is possible to be too tired to eat a jelly baby (or maybe it was a lump of Vasaline that someone handed me?). I almost literally crawled over the line and in the process learned a big lesson about pacing and not getting carried away in the early stages of a run. Except I didn't did I? I blamed it on the mythical gale force winds that barrel down the seafront knocking aside men, women, Olympic athletes and accountants in their wake. I found the first excuse I could for my "failure " (I missed my target by a whole 13 seconds).
How, finally 11 months later can I finally realise it was just an excuse? Because for the second weekend in a row I turned the corner at Eastney and ran into the glorious still air of yet another sunny autumn day on the south coast. There is no wind to worry about in the Great South Run, it's just a myth........probably.
Last year I'd trained a lot harder than I have this time around. I'd come in for a lot of stick at work for having dared to enjoy myself in 2010 and post an (apparently) sedate 1h:36, so wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. I publicly had a target of 1h:25 and was confident I could beat it with a private aim of sub 1h:20. Things went pretty much to plan in the early stages. I shunted my way near to the front of my start wave (if you start at the back you will spend a lot of energy sidestepping people) and went with the flow of the runners around me. I felt good and the miles ticked by. Not that I've run a lot of 10k races (one in fact) but I smashed my PB for that distance mid race, and then it started to get hard. I was slowing now, but still well ahead of schedule, and at mile eight I worked out that I was heading for a time around 1:18 if I could just hold my pace..... I couldn't. I turned the corner and ran into the strongest hurricane Southsea had ever known (but that no one else noticed). Just keep going, just keep going...... During those last two miles of I made two discoveries. First that the Bupa Nine Mile Boost Zone is actually before the nine mile marker (when you are that knackered 200 yards are important you know) and second that it is possible to be too tired to eat a jelly baby (or maybe it was a lump of Vasaline that someone handed me?). I almost literally crawled over the line and in the process learned a big lesson about pacing and not getting carried away in the early stages of a run. Except I didn't did I? I blamed it on the mythical gale force winds that barrel down the seafront knocking aside men, women, Olympic athletes and accountants in their wake. I found the first excuse I could for my "failure " (I missed my target by a whole 13 seconds).
How, finally 11 months later can I finally realise it was just an excuse? Because for the second weekend in a row I turned the corner at Eastney and ran into the glorious still air of yet another sunny autumn day on the south coast. There is no wind to worry about in the Great South Run, it's just a myth........probably.
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