Ill Concieved Plans Poorly executed

The Mince Pie 10

I was lured to this race by the promise of a mince pie at the end but first there was the small matter of a ten-mile run. Quite frankly I could have wandered down to Sainsbury's for the pie but where would be the fun in that. I was hoping for something a bit quick. Upon Jane's instructions I've included intervals into my spring marathon training and this was to prove if the hour or so of torture that I inflict on myself every week has yielded any results except for painful legs and a very good nights sleep. Normally I don't wear a watch, I find that I'm usually surrounded by clocks and there is just no need for this one I dusted off my free give away runners world watch so I could keep an eye on the time.

The first mile went well, I always tell myself to take it easy and warm up into the run, and I always totally ignore my own advice and head up the road like a man possessed. It was a bit quick by my humble standards but I convinced myself that they could have put the marker in the wrong place just to build up the confidence in fools like me. Very soon we were out on the downs and off the tarmac. I employed cunning plan number one, look round for someone going at the same pace and follow them. If I ever lead a race for any period of time (and I have to admit that it's never going to happen) I'll end up getting lost, navigation and pacing are not my forte.

By the time I got to mile 5 I had dropped my pace maker and had employed cunning plan number 2, pick someone in front and try an catch them. According to my watch I was well on schedule for a quick time. The fact that I'd been running down hill for the last mile or so didn't enter my head. Then I got the bad news, the guy I passed muttered "I'm not looking forward to the hill". Now I make a point of never checking out a route before hand. I would rather not know I'm about to run into trouble. This hill sounded bad. I hoped the hill reps had given me the wherewithal to defeat it. I turned the corner and it slapped me in the face. It was the sort of hill that is featured on the news during Icy weather where parked cars slide gently into the path of a busy carriageway. I suffered, I slowed, and I sweated, but then so did every one else. By the time I reached the summit I was a little worse for wear and slowing down. Of course I was now going downhill as well, which helped stretch those aching muscles.

A quick check at the 8-mile mark confirmed it, if a kept up this pace I'll be well within by previous best. What's more we were back on tarmac. All I had to do was keep up the pace. That's all. Nothing more. At 9 miles the watch gave me some bad news, I hadn't. It felt like I had but I was slowing. There was still a chance, aim at a victim up ahead and try to catch them. I could her the tannoy. It was close. Just round the corner.

PB!

And then I ate the mince pie.