Runeasi Running Gait Analysis - Coming Soon ...
A blog for a half marathon, I'm not reading this shite .
I don't blame you, I wouldn't read it either. I'll probably get bored writing it to be honest and give up after a week.
The week in numbers ...
Miles ran: Sat & Sun 18.79 miles
Gym visits: 0
Chocolate eaten: 0
Alcohol drunk: 4 pints & a large glass of merlot
What the hell's this I hear you say.
A blog that just starts on a Saturday with no build up and Simon's not even running another marathon this year.
Yeah well I'm just following on from my last blog and after my tales of Middle School bullying I'm back because Jim and Natasha both bullied me and made me cry. I won't repeat what they said but it was brutal and it cut deep and they've forced me into blogging for the Hartlepool Half in 4 weeks.
Some might say it's because they both have dull, empty lives and my stories bring a ray of sunshine into their otherwise dull and vacuous existences.
I wouldn't say, but some people would.
Ben Willcox said it.
I heard him.
It's Saturday morning and it's parkrun pacer week, I bloody love pacer week. My preferred pacing duties are very much intertwined with how I'm feeling, so if I'm feeling fit and skinny I go for 22 mins, if I'm feeling a bit fat and slow I go for 23, if I'm knackered and struggling to fit into one of my small Nike t-shirts I go for 24 and if I can't even fit into a small Adidas t shirt I go for 25.
Today's a 24 kind of day, I toyed with 23 but then got scared because I still feel wrecked from Manchester. I go out for some warm up miles and feel tired and slow and start regretting my decision, I'm wearing a small Adidas t-shirt but maybe it's a big small or maybe it got stretched and I should have gone 25?
I get to the start and decide I dont have much choice so 24 it is. So that's 7:40 mile pace, glad I'd don't go for 23 as that's 7:20 but the downside of not going for 23 is that Natasha has taken it and that means she beats me at parkrun but the bonus is Ben is doing 26 or something so at least I beat him.
Mile 1 and I'm boxed in badly and I'm already a minute a mile off the pace. Head round the skatepark and onto the prom and start weaving to lift the pace. Mile 1 in 7:36 and I actually feel okay, I'm listening to The Prodigy and need to stay on pace but the tempo of the music keeps making me lift my pace. Settle into mile 2 and again I feel okay, The Prodigy have finished but The Chemical Brothers are playing now and they've got me down to a 7:33 and I need to ease back a bit.
Heading towards mile 3 and it's a little more sedated, we've got some Dolly Parton now on the playlist and I'm around 7:45 pace which balances out the early speedier miles. But then kneecap come on again and I pick it up again and it's a 7:39 and then a little bit to finish and cross the line in 23:51 which in my book is a well paced parkrun.
I grab a coffee and head home to eat breakfast in the sunshine and spend some time talking shite on WhatsApp to friends. I mention to Jim and Natasha I should be upto 40 miles again this week and I actually have a place in the Gateshead half on Sunday but I'm not doing it as I can't be arsed and I'm in no shape to race a half. Natasha mentions it's forecast to pour down so this reaffirms my decision and a lie in and an easy 10 miles along the coast on Sunday instead.
Then me and Mrs J head to Whitley for a walk, the sun is shining and we have a free day and a sunny day and nothing to do always leads to one outcome.
Pub.
I'm slightly hungover from Friday night as I was drinking white wine and Guinness. Not in the same glass, I'm not an animal. I have a pint of coke and the sugar makes me feel a lot better, another coke and then onto the lager and Guinness. Having a lovely day with Mrs J and sitting in the sun.
And then Jim messages me.
"I've entered the half, I'll give you a lift, no excuses"
"You haven't, have you?"
The 'have you' at the end was written with a very definete raised inflection. I mean he hasn't, has he? He's just taking the piss because it's a shit course and it's raining and he knows I don't want to do it. No, it's a joke, he hasn't.
He hasn't replied.
It's been 10 minutes. He still hasn't replied.
Thank god, he was joking and he's not replying for comedy value.
45 minutes.
45 minutes to reply and he only fucking has entered. He's picking me up at 8am to drive to Gateshead. I'm in the pub and it's sunny and I'm drinking lager and then we're going to another pub where I'm going to switch to Guinness or probably red wine.
I don't want to race a half tomorrow.
Oh, I'm also out tonight with Poppy to see Kneecap and I'll be dancing and drinking. Did I mention I really don't want to do a half marathon tomorrow.
The only saving grace from this is that Jim will do it in under 1:20 and he'll have to stand about in the pissing rain for half an hour waiting for me and that cheers me up.
Home from the pub at teatime, have a shower and quickly eat some tea and then heading up to Newcastle for Kneecap at the Boiler Shop.
Kneecap are great, they are loud, very loud and my internal organs are vibrating a lot and I'm probably the oldest person in here. Then I spot Paddy and realise he's actually the oldest person here.
The gig finishes, I've had a other beer, I've done some dancing and I'm home by about 11 and I'm hungry so eat some more late night tea and fall asleep on the settee with Murphy. Gail wakes me up and I head to bed.
Tomorrow is going to be bloody awful.
Bloody Jim.
I've had a terrible night's sleep, check the time and it's 6am. I roll over and hope to drift back off for 10 mins. Feel like I've been awake the whole time but when I check it's 7am. I get up and go downstairs and make a large cup of black coffee and feed Murphy. I walk past Marvin and he hits me for no reason, he's a little shit.
I stick a bagel in the toaster and grab my running gear. Today I'm going for black shorts, bright pink trainers and bright pink socks and due to the fact my Soar vest doesn't fit because I've put half a stone on I instead just stick on a black vest and grab a cap as it's pouring down. I also grab my sunglasses as although it's not sunny I have ridiculously sensitive eyes to the wind and need glasses that cover the sides of my eyes otherwise they just pour with tears and I can't see anything.
So very much like my Manchester marathon really as they poured with tears a lot there.
Jim arrives and I jump in the car and we're off.
I feel totally underprepaired. We arrive and neither of us has read any pre race info. We have no idea where we collect numbers, where we drop bags off, where the start line is and it's pouring down.
We head into the stadium and wonder about for a bit and eventually find the registration tent and grab our numbers, I spot Oliver and ask him where bag drop is and he tells me it's our the front so we head that way via the toilet. I realise I haven't packed any gels but then route around and find one in the bottom of my bag leftover from Manchester, that'll do. I mean not having a gel would have been the least of my problems really.
Back into the stadium and try and work out where we start and which way we're running. All I know is it's a hilly, lapped course. I hate both hills and laps so this will be delightful.
All of a sudden the announcer says we're staring in 30 seconds. Then we're off. The first bit is on the track and then out the stadium, I check my watch and I'm doing 6:40 mile pace which is idiotic so I slow down and settle into a more sedate pace. I have no idea what time to aim for.
Yesterday 7:40 pace at parkrun was okay but my heart rate was a little high which means I'm not quite ready to hold that for a long time so I think maybe just under 8's should be okay? I guess around 7:50 a mile will be sustainable.
I go through the first mile in 7:16 and tell myself I'm a twat but in my defence it was downhill. I slow and settle down and mile 2 is 7:28 and feels much better. It's a really twisty and undulating course and I feel like I'm speeding up and slowing down all the time but I feel fine so decide to ignore the pace and just run. I figure if it feels hard I'll slow down and if it feels okay I'll speed up.
I don't bother looking at my watch, I go up a hill, down a hill, round a cone, up a hill, down a hill, over a bridge, see Will, see Oliver, go round a cone, see Jim, go up a hill, go round another cone and then do it all again.
I'm waiting for my watch to beep for 4 miles and I feel okay and then it beeps. It's 6 miles, I've lost 2 miles.
There's so many distance markers and they make no sense, they have miles and km and there is a 10k, a half and a marathon all on the same course and no markers say what event they are for. Of course I could look at my watch but I don't want to and it's much easier to just complain about the markers instead.
Should be coming up to 8 miles now.
Decide I'll have a gel about 10 miles. Watch beeps. It's 10 miles. I've lost another 2 miles. Take the gel and back over the bridge to Newcastle. See Will again and he grabs some photos of me, check these later and I don't look horrific which is a bonus.
Loop round a cone and then back over the bridge and then it's basically a climb all the way back to the stadium to finish. I hit the 12 mile marker and I check my watch. I'm actually doing okay here, this could be a sub 1:45 and I feel fine. I'm not knackered, my legs feel good and I don't feel like I'm working that hard.
The climb towards the stadium is horrible and goes on for ages, glad I'm not doing the marathon. We turn into the stadium and another small climb up the bank and through the gate and then onto the track.
I cross the line in 1:37 and I'm 5th placed V50 overall. I actually quite enjoyed that, not the course as that was shit but the experience. Jim if you're reading this you're still a shit for making me do it, I was hungover and tired and I wanted a lie in today but thank you.
Oh and well done on your 8th place finish and 1st V50.
Bastard.
I used to beat Jim in races you know, I beat him at London Marathon in 2023, beat him loads of times to be honest. But then he cheated and he started training properly and watching his diet and running fast and in my books that's not fair.
I finally got round to sorting all my marathon blogs into one place.
You can read about Kielder, London , Amsterdam, York and Manchester and you can enjoy my tales of my sausage dog nemesis, Bilbo, Ben, Bain pissing himself, parties, gigs, pizzas, red wine and I even occasionally talk about running.
HAVE A READ HERE