Ill Concieved Plans Poorly executed

Brighton 10K

It's not often that I do a real race, Matt observed as we were sheltering from the cold blustery wind and "warming up" with a nice hot cup of tea. He's right, I tend to go for events that feature mud and hills rather than a nice flat tarmac. This will be my second ever 10k, as I have acquired a preference for longer races, but with the aid of a last minute entry and very little persuasion I managed to be here. I even indulged in that very odd practice that runners know as warming up, or to put it another way, I had a little jog up and down Marine parade in an effort to forestall the effects of the biting wind. All too soon it was time to assemble for the start and, after actually finding the start line, I snuk into the massed throng mainly to get some shelter.

The start, out to Black Rock and into the wind, was a rather chaotic affair. Even though the organisers had kindly marked where people should start from given there expected time there was still a lot of slow moving traffic in front. Either some people are over optimistic in there expectations or there is a tactic that I'm not aware of. Still it was quite fun dodging round all and sundry; sometimes the fastest line is not the straightest line and it does add a little extra frisson to the start; and gives me the impression that I've got the hang of this running game. The turnaround point came fairly quickly and then, joy of joys, the cold blustery full frontal assault from the wind became my friend as it pushed me ever forward to Hove. Now the fun started, I've been going quite well recently and my bout of good form was with me today. By dint of a steady pace and a tailwind I was able to hone in on groups of runners in front and gently reel them in before aiming for the next bunch and repeating the process. There was one club shirt that I instantly recognised and they had plenty of runners in the race, I took a great and infantile delight in picking them off one by one. It's childish I know but it makes me happy.

I quick check of the watch at the half way point told me that I was doing exceptionally well by my standards. A little further up I saw the front runners pounding down the pavement, running as close to the beach huts as possible to gain a little shelter. The return to the finish looked like it was going to be a bit of a struggle to say the least. The last turn loomed in the distance and as I rounded it I braced myself for the windy slap in the face to knock my complacency for six. It didn't disappoint. The wonderful thing about out and back courses it that you get to see where everyone else that you know is in the race. Heading back towards the finish I played "I spy with my little eye -someone I recognise". One or two had a wave, some a yell of encouragement but mostly it was another tick in my mental eye spy book.

Slowly the Palace pier grew in size marking that the finish was getting close. From the pier it was all downhill to the finish and time to partake of the ritual of the sprint finish; Normally I shun this ritual because of a nasty incident that left me hobbling for weeks; but today it felt right so why not. I crossed the line in a shade under forty-one minutes, a personal best, and despite the bout of prolonged coughing I felt really good. The only way to finish a day like this was to spend it in good company but that, as they say, is another story…