As my fourth marathon/ultra in as many weeks, my expectations for this one were suitably low. Although I’d had an easy week since Ladybower, I’d been feeling pretty tired, and having to get up at 0430 to drag my arse down to Nottingham wasn’t really great prep for anything spectacular performance-wise. My plan was to keep it steady, run within myself, and finish around 3:30.

This was my first big city road race since Liverpool in May, a rare thing for me, and there are a few things I really hate about doing them, as opposed to the smaller trail races I’m more used to.

The car park was about two miles away from the start which was  ok on the way there, but a real drag on the way back. The race started on a field with a pretty full-on race village thing going on. Tents, changing rooms, VIP area, all kinds of people selling crap, and a million portaloos. Obviously a million wasn’t enough, so with half an hour to go people were peeing up against or behind pretty much anything. In a small trail race going in the bushes is pretty standard, but I think there’s something not quite right about thousands of people pissing all over a park that kids are playing in, just because they can’t be arsed queuing.

Anyway, after a bit of a wander about we were off to the start, in coloured waves which was pretty well organised. The marathon and half-marathon were starting together so it was pretty packed, but we were off without too much ado.

I worked my way in front of the 3:30 pacer so as to avoid the crowd behind him, and settled into a 4:45/km pace which felt ok to start off with. The route wasn’t too bad, the sun was shining which always helps, but there seemed to be a minimum of Industrial Estate, and we took in some nice stretches of surrounding countryside without ever getting too far away from the city.
The  half-marathon runners split off at about 11 miles which was weird, and made the second half feel a bit longer, but I had a chat with a few guys along the way to pass the time and got a high-five from Mike Wells who was marshalling around mile 15 which was cool.

At around 20 miles I really started to struggle. It was getting really warm and my legs were toast. They were giving the water out in the same little pouch things they used at Manchester and I’m not sure I was drinking enough from them early on – it was really hard to tell how much of it was going in, as opposed to up my nose or all over the runners behind me. I was slowing down a lot too, and started looking over my shoulder for the 3:30 pacer. I wasn’t too bothered about my time so long as it was around 3:30, but I didn’t want to spend the last few miles in a huge crowd of people.

We did a big loop of a reservoir/water park thing with a few miles to go and I could see that the 3:30 pacer was nowhere in the mile and a half behind me so I figured I was safe, and just trundled on. The last 3km were tough, I was pretty much out on my feet – not the comfortable coast I was hoping for, but then I had a few miles in my legs from the previous weeks’ races I guess, and it was pretty warm by that point too.

As I hit the turn back into the park I noticed I was just over 3:30, so god knows what happened to the pacer, and I eventually bumbled over the line in 3:31:04.

Overall the race was pretty good, and I’d like to have a go at it on fresh legs. Matt Tonks hit his sub3 goal there the same day and it’s definitely a nice quick course. One of the coolest things was that everywhere on the route, all I saw were people doing sport. It was like there wasn’t a park or a patch of grass what didn’t have a football or hockey match on it, there were other runners and cyclists all over the place - even all the water we passed had rowers on it. I was happy enough with my time, although I’d have liked it to be a little more comfortable. For all the piss-taking and messing about that goes with running ultras, it’s never “only” a marathon, and I definitely earned this one.

I’ll be happy to have a few weeks running around the local trails now in prep for marathon/ultra number 50 at Snowdonia in four weeks. One easy week should be enough to recharge the legs, then a couple of speedier ones to get ready for those hills!

Before the race started, I was feeling pretty good. Physically I felt strong, and a hill and navigation-free, two and a half lap route seemed a good opportunity to clock a decent time. I thought if all went well I could get around the 35 mile route in about 4:45-5:00 without too much drama, which would be a good way to finish my last ultra of the year.

All did not go well.

I managed to find myself at the front in a small group of runners for the first few kilometres, but by about 8km I was just running (and chatting) at the front with a guy called Dave. By around 14km we were being caught by some of the 20 mile runners who’d started 15 minutes after us and found out we were a few minutes ahead of the nearest 35 mile runner which was cool. We were just banging out 4:40/kms give or take, which felt good, and having a good natter along the way was really passing the time.

Then at about 20km my stomach started cramping up in a pretty bad way. Dave ran on while I headed for the bushes, emerging a few minutes later, a touch lighter, but in no less pain. The next four or five km were like running with a bowling ball in my stomach, I was in absolute agony. I made another bush stop, and stopped again at a random (but gratefully received) portaloo.

By the time I got to the start/finish checkpoint with one 15 mile lap to go I was a mess. I stopped to make sure someone took my number and one of the marshals asked if I needed first aid, so I must’ve looked about as bad as I felt. I stumbled through and on for the last lap though, just wanting to get it over with and go home.

I trudged on, and then started to feel a lot better. The pain in my stomach was easing, my legs were trashed but not getting any worse, and the end was getting closer. I was struggling to work out what time I was on for what with all the stops, and had spent so much time off the course I had no idea what place I was in, so the pressure was off in that respect which I think helped too.

I chatted with a couple of the 50 mile runners as I passed them in the last 10km or so, and was actually starting to feel pretty good. I was ticking along at 5:00/km pace or thereabouts, but the closer I got to the finish the more I knew I was well outside of my goal time.

I crossed the line in 5:16, and saw Dave who’d won in 5:01, congratulated him, and hung around for a bit to see some of the other runners come in. Turns out I was 3rd, shortly followed by James Young who came in 4th after having a similarly tough day. We had a bit of a natter, and then I cleared off to get home.

I was a bit disappointed, but more about the fact that I hadn’t enjoyed it than with the result. It was my 14th ultra/marathon this year, and only the second one where I’ve had a truly horrible time, so I’m not doing too bad on that score I guess.

In terms of the race, I’m not sure I’ll do it again. There was nothing wrong with it, biggish loops, nice surroundings, easy navigation, couple of water stops etc. but there wasn’t anything to really stand out for me in terms of going back. 35 miles isn’t a PB I care about, and there are definitely other 50 milers I want to do for the first time before I go back to do this one.

Anyway, next stop Nottingham for a tarmac enema (road marathon), then a couple of weeks off racing before the good stuff starts again.

After the exertions of Wolverhampton, this was (definitely) to be an easy trot out. As an LDWA event there was navigation, cake, and nice things to look at, so it was no place to be pushing the pace anyway.

I registered, chatted with a few other runners, and then in the usual understated LDWA style, we were off. I took a wrong turn almost immediately which was funny, and then fell into pace with a lady Tracy who’d done the race (albeit a slightly different route) the year before.

We chatted away, keeping a decent pace for a few miles, checking the route description every now and again, until we came across a sign that said “18 mile route”. This was a worry, as we knew the 26 mile and 18 mile routes split and rejoined a few times along the way. Just as we were working out what had gone wrong we caught up some 18 milers who said we’d gone the wrong way. They said we could just carry on and meet the 26 mile route in about half a mile, but that would lop about 4 miles off.

Honesty prevailed, and we doubled back, running the two miles back to where we should have turned left, and rejoicing the 26 milers at the back of the field. We worked our way through a few groups of walkers and runners, and made it to the first checkpoint without too much drama.

Apart from the time it cost us adding four miles on, I could tell we were losing a lot of time in smaller chunks as we were so nervous of making another wrong turn. For the next few miles we were stopping quite a bit to double check where we were which although it was a nice day and we were having a good time, was slowly adding to the time we were out there.

After the second checkpoint there seemed to be more people around and It was easier to navigate, apart from a tricky residential stretch through Edgbaston. The canal sections were longer on the second half and eventually we came to the highlight of the race – checkpoint 3 and the marshal’s cake competition. I cast my vote, plumping for a fruity shortbread thing, and then it was off for the final stretch.

Tracy was starting to tire a bit, and I wasn’t feeling like I had anything to kick for home with, so we just kept plodding on. We ran most of the last stretch with a lady Beth who was running really well, conserving energy for the Chesterfield Marathon the next day. Eventually she pulled away from us, and then all of a sudden we came around a bend in the canal and we were at the finish.

All my expectations  of LDWA events were then met, with a sincere “well done”, a nice certificate, and a jacket potato with cheese and beans. All for the princely sum of £9.

My finishing time was 4:37, which I was initially horrified by until I remembered the extra four miles and all the cake stops. The easy pace was definitely what I needed though, I ran 20km with the club the next morning without too much drama, so I’m  feeling in good shape for Ladybower next week.

The Wolverhampton Marathon represented the beginning of the end of the year for me. After the highs of two ultra wins and a stack of PBs, and the lows of missing the SDW100 and LLCR130, my plan was to make as big a dent in reaching 100 marathons as possible by the end of the year.

This was the first of fifteen marathons/ultras before New Year, and the first of four in four weeks, so I planned to take it easy, finish strong, and not leave myself needing too much recovery time. Which lasted about 3 minutes.

The gun went off, and I got immediately caught up the excitement of the day, a flat quick start, and the fact that the half marathon started at the same time meant it was easy to keep a tidy pace. On the first loop I didn’t really notice much. Every time I looked at my watch I thought I was going a bit quick, but felt ok, and figured if I started to struggle I’d just slow down a bit.

The weather was nice, and the course was a bit undulating, but that was more helpful than anything, helping to shift the load on my legs a bit. Just before half way a couple of people passed me which annoyed me a bit, I gave chase and pegged them back, just as they peeled off to the half marathon finish and I was directed out for another, slightly different, loop.

Immediately after halfway the race felt different. All of a sudden I was completely on my own with nobody around me, and if it hadn’t been for the million marshals on the course I’d have been totally lost. I didn’t even think to look at my Garmin until a little way after the second loop, but when I did it said 1:36 so I knew I had a chance of a PB, unless I imploded, which I was pretty sure would happen.

After that it was all kind of a blur. I carried on running, struggled a bit with the 500ml bottles they were dishing out (until a local with their own aid station gave me a 330ml one that I carried most of the last 5 miles), and kept the effort as steady as I could. I only saw seven people on the second loop (passed them all), and all of a sudden I was at the bottom of the final hill heading up to the finish.

I glanced at my watch as it ticked over 3:05 with just under a mile to go and gave myself a target for the first time, thinking sub 3:10 would be neat. As I turned into the finish line the clock turned 3:09:00 and was counting up as I hoofed it the last few hundred metres, finishing in 3:09:33, a PB by over four minutes.

The race was pretty good fun. Two laps in the sunshine, flat as a snooker table, and had gone up in the morning with Richard and Rob from SWAC. It was all pretty unremarkable, I took a minute or so off my PB running 1:28:22 which was neat, had an ice-cream, and then we went home.

Then the results came out and they'd given me the wrong time, by about 40 seconds. No idea what happened so I emailed them. Got told the results were right, told them they weren't, then then admitted they were wrong and gave me a new official time. Still nowhere near what I ran, but closer than what they'd originally published. I asked what the actual issue had been, but they wouldn't tell me.

It was the same organisers (using the term loosely) that put on the Blackpool Marathon, so I think I'll be giving them a big swerve in future. Good job it was only a half marathon or I'd have been annoyed.