With that, I found the green wave banner and waited for a bit. Then stripped off my layers, handed them to Jake (as he accurately said, its donkey mode time!!) then went into the barrier like a farmer herding his cattle. Literally, the warm up is usually great and energetic, but me, like many others were freezing. They shared the same view of, we just start already!?
Before long we did. The little shuffle forward, led to a brisk walk and then, boom! I was running over that start line mat. No going back now.
As stated by the announcer, the first 5km were downhill. I knew this. If it was the route in reverse, we’d be running down the dreaded finally leg of 2016. Up St James and Charlottes road. It was mind boggling, running down it for once. My legs were ticking over just fine. My 1st mile came in at 10:10. The second mile I started to get a stitch. This had me in pain for at least half an hour after this point. I just dug my right hand into just below my rib cage and soldiered on. As I do.
Finally onto Clevedon Road. Which seen the first ‘proper’ hill. I ran all the way. I didn’t look at my watch for my 5k time. I can only assume it was about 31:50 something.
Miles 4 and 5 seen us heading through Cannon Hill Park. I’ve agreed with many RMR’s that this section should be elongated, to try and cut off the whinding through the industrial estate just as you’re about to hit the city centre. I can only assume it’s cheaper for these roads to be closed, with it being right near the finish and not half way through. So fair game. My 4th mile came in at 10:43. The 5th mile seen us submerge through the Edgebaston Cricket Ground came in at 10::48. Now you can really see my pace declining. Ever so slightly, mind. By this point I wasn’t flagging, but I wasn’t feeling a fresh as a daisy. Especially now I knew what lay ahead. The dreaded and elongated Pershore Road. We were running parallel to mostly the Orange wave. There was me trying to think in my head what mile they were on and envied them. Like,
I ran and ran. Trying my hardest to concentrate on something more than the fact I still had just under half to go. 10km came along. According to my watch which was overall 0.8 miles over I came had a 1:05:17. Which I was more than happy to have. It beat the other weeks time for sure. But the online results say, i think it’s 1:05:51. Which I was kinda gutted about. But the first has still gone down on my chalk board as a 10k PB. I DONT CAREEEE. NO SHAME.
Mile 7. Came in at nothing special. Nothing really happened of much interest if you ask me. Now mile 8 or leading up to it, was special. I was just merrily running along and a lady kind of swung her head round as of to get my attention. I seen she was wearing a Northbrook vest. Yeeey. Hadn’t seen any of them at all, all day. Which is quiet unusual. I never got the lady’s name. But she was lovely. She greeted me at the end just after the finish line, I explained to her that she may not see me much at training due to me having a 10month old baby with a working Dad and Nan. So I was unable to make any of Northbrook training days. Which still guttifies me to this day. She said. “Ooo, I’ve herd about you. They say you’re unable to come, but said you’d be doing this. There was only another man in this wave who a Northbrooker, so I knew it had to be you.” Good old Kev Coughlan. Lizzy’s Daddio. I’m pretty sure It was him 100%, as there’s no one there that knew me better from the club. Especially not about Freya. It was absolutely lovely and showed me why I still pay my membership to affiliate with this club. Their comradery is outstanding. I’m really sorry Northbrook lady I don’t think I asked you name! :-(.
Mile 8 was horrific. The nasty Mary Vale Road. Mayyyyn it was steep, I had to walk half way. I just physically couldn’t do it. There was a lot of support which was great. As soon as I summited at the to the bridge I kicked back into a shuffle. It was like a horse (if you’ve ever seen one) going from walk to canter very ungracefully. If that’s a word. Who cares. My blog. I can make up words if I do want to. It came in at 11:08. So not as bad as I initially anticipated. You head onto Bournville Lane... my shoe laces decided to untie themselves. So I had to look over my should as to not stop abruptly and cause a runner pile up. I couldn’t feel my hands very well at all. Then I got back to it. The decent back onto Pershore was a lovely respite for my previous efforts. Selly Park Road. Another filthy incline. Not as steep as Male Vale, the bitch. Kensington Road was again another well needed decline.
Going from 10 to 11 I could feel my calf’s screaming at me. I’d never experienced this before. I can only assume it’s because my lactic threshold has far surpassed itself with my current fitness. Like, I know I seen many stop to stretch at this point. But I didn’t want to. I feared if I stopped I wouldn’t maintain any sort of momentum or finesse. Ive never had this during previous half marathons. I can truly imagine what football player go through when they get cramp throughout a game. It doesn’t justify their pricey wages though.
Here was where I hit the, Oo please let it be over. I just kept think run to this lamppost, run to this object approach. Which actually did work. I kept on bullying myself in my head.
What’s walking going to accomplish? Nothing. It’ll just be over a lot slower.
Mile 11 10:37 a negative split. It was flat and fairly boring here. I peered over to the right, where some, 7 miles ago I was at that point and seen a lady who was an amazing inspiration. So happy, full of life. Even with the sweaper van behind her.
Many supports had fled back into their warm living quarters due to the rain. Who could blame them? It had kinda started to ease off by this point too. I kept glancing at my watch. Bad thing to do really. It was like the last hour of work- dragging tremendously.
Mile 12, a landmark. It’s not a landmark. It’s a roundabout. But it marks your return to the centre. The final furlong! Then the boring industrial estate part. It honestly feels like they’re just dragging it out to make up that last little bit. Here I was getting angry. Like really angry with myself. It felt like my legs weren’t attached. Like they were disunited. I suppose it’s normal after running 13 miles on only 6 miles of training.
Mile 13 11:22. By this point I looked like a drowned rat, I wasn’t cold as such. Just my hand. Not even my feet and they were soaked to the bone. Bradford street was to follow onto Moor street. This was torture. Torment from the course organisers. Although fairly vertical and over quickly (by quickly I mean my snail pace), it was different from the lengthy inclines you would have to tackle back in 2016. I honestly don’t know what one was worse. At this point I didn’t care. I was so close. So close yet, so far. Onto Moor St Queensway. It seemed really claustrophobic. Supporters either side. Obviosuly trying to be helpful, but narrowed the finish a bit too much. It prevented runner over taking if they’d wanted up the pace for a sprint finish. I believe they should of taped a running lane so the spectators couldn’t come in so close. I don’t know what it was, maybe it was because I was wet, panting like a bitch with achy legs that I just didn’t want to be crowded. It felt like I was in London at rush hour. Erghhhhh. Get away humans. But bless you for cheering us on. You’re major hero’s. Then It was uphill slightly to the finish. I was like...
where is it, where is it? Come to me, baby!
I want warm dry clothes. I passed the line, I’ve seen on the tv at the London marathon when people finish and they just collapse. I felt like that. I made an abrupt stop and swayed side to side like a drunkard and my vision had the old television like static for a slight second. I just kept walking, taking advantage of the fact that if I did pass out. There was a medical tent and a stretcher to my right. Ahaha. Luckily though. That was not needed. I gained my goody bag and took my phone out to call Jake.
OMG. I literally wanted a divorce. He was trying to tell me where he was and it wasn’t making any sense to me. I hadn’t a clue. Then he couldn’t hear me, then I couldn’t hear him. I kept my composure as much as I could. It wasn’t his fault. I then was met by the Northbrook lady whom had waved at me at mile 8. We congratulated each other.
After this, I took shelter in a portaloo and just started getting my wet stuff off immediately. Dabbing myself with toilet paper, yummm. He finally found me. To say I’ve got changed in more fancier places is a given. But I was warm a and snug. I herd my phone ping when I was coming up the Moor St hill. I read them after. It was Jake. Clearly watching the tracker and he’d sent me 3 texts egging me on. I’ll post a picture at the end. I didn’t want a divorce anymore. I do love him very much.
After this we went and met my Dad and Helen. I ran up to him, squeezed him and shouted, “admit you were wrong!” He said “what are you on about!” I said, “you kept on relaying to me when I was pregnant planning all this years running events that I’d have no chance of doing them with a baby and that I didn’t understand the true extent of how much my body will change. Well in your face. I’ve just completed this in a faster time then my first ever attempt, my second half marathon in 2015!” He just grunted, with his dorkey laugh, then grunted some more and congratulated me. He doesn’t like to admit he’s wrong. Can you tell?
We went to the Square Peg. Which was heaving with runners and their family and friends. We got a hot chocolate and brunch. When both the men went to the bar to order I was with Helen and said, “my arms tingling. Am I having a heart attack?!!”. She burst out in laughter and said, “don’t be silly, no!”
I ended the day knocking off 16 minutes and 23 seconds from my come back Half in Liverpool in May. It took me to a new post preggo PB of 2:23:17! I was over the moon.
Now without further delay. Because I’ve either bored the shit outta you or you’re just wanting to know is the route flatter. Ermmmm in my opinion I would say ever so slightly. Not much difference at all. Looking at the data from 2018 comparatively with 2016, it shows the elevation through records on my TomTom (which I had at the time)
2016
555ft max
456ft average
389ft loss
2018
556 max!
342ft average
438ft loss
So as you can see you gained 1 ft more as a result in 2018, but lost significantly more in your average elevation throughout, and lost more on the descent which would explain the ‘fast’ side of the course description.
Overall, I really enjoyed this course and as ever the support was amazing considering the weather. You’re fully looked after by them throughout the course. The comradeship is a sight to see. So guess what Brum? See you next year pal! I’ll be back faster! ;).
