Longest Mile - The Movie

This is just a very quick postscript to my account of the last weekend's Windsor Half Marathon in the form of two very short video clips. In the first clip you can see me labouring up the Long Mile at the start of the race. I'm number 1538, and appear after a couple of seconds to the left of the picture. I'm sporting a navy blue top with orange stripes on the arms and wearing a red, white and blue headband. Click on the play button to watch the clip.

I'm easier to spot in the second clip, which shows me trudging exhausted towards the finishing line.

MK Don @ MK Dons

I realised the other day that I'm an MK Don! Don't worry, I haven't suddenly and inexplicably switched my footballing allegiance to a club that didn't even exist eight years ago, and only came to be following the highly dubious process of taking over Wimbledon Football Club and relocating from South London to Milton Keynes in Buckinghamshire. No, what I'm saying is that I'm a don as in the university lecturer definition of the word, and working for the Open University, I'm based in Milton Keynes. So that makes me an MK Don in a non-football sense.

Milton Keynes is an strange place. The pretty village of Milton Keynes dates back to the 11th century, but the much larger town that has been built around it started life as one of the post-war new towns in 1967. It's famous for, amongst other things, the grid system of its roads, its numerous roundabouts and  of course its concrete cows. I've only been into the town centre on a few occasions, and have found it a grey and characterless place. Milton Keynes' outer areas, though, are green, pleasant and extremely pedestrian and bicycle friendly, with fields, lakes, canals and a wide variety of leisure facilities.

University Roundabout, Milton Keynes

The Open University, often referred to simply as the OU, is based in the parish of Walton to the south of central Milton Keynes. Walton Hall, the old manor house, is now a part of the university campus and is used as office space, including the Vice-Chancellor's office.

Walton Hall

The large campus is similar in look to many of the newer universities in the UK, but as the OU specialises in distance learning approaches, the only students on campus are the 200 or so postgraduate research students. The OU was started in 1970 by Harold Wilson's Labour Government, and has gone from strength to strength ever since, although the current changes to the funding of higher education in England are going to present the University with some real challenges over the next few years. Much of the campus has the feel of the 1970s, although in recent years it has been enhanced by a number of more contemporary and innovative buildings.

Jenny Lee Building

Each building is named after somebody important in the history of the OU. I'm based in Stuart Hall Building, which makes me chuckle every time I enter. After swiping my security card to open the automatic doors, I have visions of  a Belgian dressed in an over-sized animal suit attached to a length of strong elastic hurtling down the stairs to the accompaniment of wheezy and infectious laughter or half expect to hear those dulcet Mancunian tones pronouncing "And here we are at the Coliseum for a match of titanic proportions ..." Sadly, though, the the building is named after Stuart Hall, the eminent cultural theorist and not the loquacious broadcaster. 

Stuart Hall Building

My footballing namesakes, the MK Dons, play at Stadium mk on the outskirts of town towards Bletchley surrounded by light industrial and retail estates. Charlton were the visitors yesterday for a 7:45pm kick off, which provided me with the rare opportunity of attending a midweek away game. Not much to look at from the outside, inside Stadium mk is a spacious and comfortable place to watch football. The concourses are wide and airy, the seats padded with plenty of leg room and excellent sight lines to the pitch. As yet no seats have been installed in the upper tier, exposing yet more unattractive concrete. Stadium mk was chosen as a venue for the 2018 World Cup, and the plan was to put the rest of the seats in by then, but of course the English Football Association were not prepared to pay the necessary backhanders to FIFA officials, and consequently failed to be awarded the tournament. Therefore when or indeed whether the stadium will be finished off is anyone's guess. Even with the current capacity of 22,000, the MK Dons struggle to fill even one third of the ground with their own fans, so unless the opposition are a team like Charlton who were backed about a thousand noisy supporters last night, the ground must feel very empty and lacking in atmosphere.

Inside Stadium MK. It wasn't much fuller after kick off.

Charlton approached the game as league leaders and unbeaten in their first nine games of the season. MK Dons were only a few points behind, however, and were easily the better team in the first half playing some lively, attractive football. MK went ahead in the 21st minute thanks to a penalty awarded  for a rash challenge by Chris Solly on Dean Lewington. I was sitting behind the goal not far from the incident, and at the time I was convinced that there was little wrong with Solly's challenge and that the award of a penalty was harsh in the extreme. I must have been at just the wrong angle, because having seen the television replay there can be absolutely no doubt that the ref was correct.

A scramble in the box as Charlton press for an equaliser.

After the break, Charlton were much improved and the game developed into an exciting end to end affair. An equaliser seemed to be coming, but almost as likely was that Mk would equalise at the other end. On 75 minutes a superb spin by substitute Danny Green left his marker for dead and provided the time and space for the Charlton winger to whip in an inch perfect cross for another substitute, Yann Kermorgant, to latch onto with a powerful header that found its way into the net via the post and the motionless goalkeeper's leg. The travelling fans, myself included, erupted with joy. Further chances were spurned at either end before the final whistle, a draw probably the right result. Two good teams had produced an entertaining game, with fans of both seeming in very good heart as they started to make their way home.

The Charlton players thank the fans for their support.

A day in Milton Keynes that had combined business with pleasure was nearly at an end. Forty minutes later I was back home in St Albans after smoothly negotiating a succession of roundabouts and the relatively uncongested M1. 

The Longest Mile

My intention was to write this blog entry last night. Unfortunately I felt so shattered after my exertions during the afternoon that after a hearty dinner and a long soak in the bath I went straight to bed. So here I am one day later, surprisingly free of aches and pains, beginning my report on the Windsor Half Marathon.

I'll start by saying straight out that it didn't go to plan. Nowhere near in fact. The weather let me down. My legs let me down. The lack of flatness in Windsor Great Park let me down. But it was fantastic nevertheless. Doesn't make sense?  Let me explain.

Heading towards the Copper Horse statue of King George III along the Long Walk at the start

After a few weeks of distinctly chilly autumnal weather, summer decided to return for this, my final half marathon of the year and with a 1:00 pm start, much later in the day than is usual for such events, I found myself sweating even as I stood amongst the massed ranks waiting to start. This was not encouraging, especially with the first mile of the course comprising of a steady incline along Windsor Park's majestic 'Long Walk'. 

'Learn from previous mistakes' I told myself, 'Take it really slowly to start with; don't use up all of your energy early on'. And take it slowly I did, expecting the terrain to level out once the 'Long Walk' had been negotiated. However it turned out that the second mile was mostly uphill as well, and in fact the whole course was surprisingly undulating, the only exception being a mile long level section approaching the impressive Guards Polo Club, along which seemingly out of nowhere a fierce headwind made forward momentum nigh on impossible.

As if running 13.1 miles on a hot afternoon wasn't hard enough!

After three miles I was really struggling. My legs felt like lead, screaming their dislike of the heat and hills combination with every laboured energy sapping stride. What goes up must go down, however, but whilst the downhill sections were very welcome to start with, negotiating them soon began to pull painfully on different muscles and place an increasing strain on my knees. The whole experience felt brutal. Progressing so slowly, I felt for a while that I would never make it to the finishing line. The stretch between 6 and 9 miles seemed particularly endless. Only a week before I had completed a 10 mile training run trouble free and fleet of foot, and I found myself wondering how it was possible for my body to feel so different from one long Sunday run to the next.

The scenery, though, was fantastic. Windsor Great Park is vast and especially beautiful at this time of year as the leaves begin to turn into the browns, reds and oranges of autumn. The tied houses of the Royal Estate workers were fascinating, some of them pretty chocolate box cottages, others not insubstantial country piles in their own right. The park even has its own pub and Village Store. The route was very well marshalled by cheerful and encouraging military types, who were assiduous in clearing up discarded water bottles almost before they had landed on the ground. Strict orders from their boss in the castle, no doubt. The Royal love of horses was there for all to see, not only in the strategically placed statues of Kings and Queens on horseback, but also in the pungent lumps of manure that necessitated the occasional swerve as I progressed along the estate roads.

Struggling almost from the outset, I found myself nearer to the back of the field than I've been in other events this year. Amongst such company a pattern emerges, as floundering athletes summon up the energy for a burst of overtaking before fading again and being overtaken back by the runners overtaken shortly before. It's a recurring cycle and soon you start to recognise and feel an affinity with your fellow strugglers, get chatting and encourage each other along. It's very uplifting and enjoyable, and something those serious runners towards the front lose out on in my opinion. Particularly worthy of a mention yesterday was runner number 397, name unknown but affectionately dubbed by me as 'Bird Man'. He was probably a few years older than me and his running style looked even worse than mine felt, but every time I caught up with him he would point out something of interest overhead. 'Look, there's a flock of parakeets over there!' or 'Did you see that Hawk just now? I think it was a red tailed one.' Fantastic! In the end, I managed to pull clear and finished a couple of minutes ahead of him, but I bumped into him again after collecting my bag and shook his hand.

The finish, and beyond that, Windsor Castle.

The final mile, back along the Long Walk was torturous even though it was downhill. Every inch of my legs was hurting by now, and although the finish was in sight all the way, a cruel optical illusion meant that for a long time it didn't seem to be getting any nearer as I pounded towards it. With Windsor Castle in the background, though, this was a majestic and inspirational end to the race and I overtook a lot of runners as I approached the finish, only being overtaken once, by a young couple at least twenty years my junior. Once over the line, I felt strangely elated. The race had been tough, really tough but I'd made it in one piece and the visual magnificence of that final mile had somehow raised the experience to another level.

My time wasn't good by any stretch of the imagination. It was by some measure the slowest of my three half marathons this year. It meant that Project 50 would not be graced by a PB for this distance. On the bright side, though, it was comfortably faster than both of the half marathons I ran last year, in itself a pleasing and worthwhile outcome. It also made me realise just how well I'd done to achieve my PB (over 30 minutes faster) five years ago at the age of 45 having started running only two years before that. Everything's relative. I'm beginning to think that without some kind of bionic implant I probably won't get close to that particular time again, but that's not going to stop me from continuing to lace up my running shoes and enjoy the incredible high and the sense of well being that comes from a really good run, irrespective of the time. And as yesterday proved, even a bad day on the road can end up as a positive experience if you just stick at it.

First day of Term

It was back to school today for Hannah. But this wasn't just any old first day of term, it was her first day at secondary school so something of a big deal. Well, a big deal for Juliet and me, as Hannah seemed to take it very much in her stride telling us to stop fussing about and getting all emotional. It's hard not to, though, when you feel so proud of your daughter and she looks so grown up and smart in her new uniform.

All set for the first day at Secondary School

It doesn't really seem so long ago that Hannah was about to embark on her first day in Reception. Was it really seven years ago?

Reception Class at St Marks awaits

So, a new chapter begins. No more dropping off and picking up from school for me now. Hannah will be walking to and from school with her friends from now on. It feels like an independence day of sorts. I hope that Hannah enjoys her new school as much as she has enjoyed her two primary schools. With her natural enthusiasm, I'm sure she will make the most of all the opportunities that will come her way.

Back of the Kew

September has arrived and the last few days have felt decidedly autumnal. The summer, if you can call it that, has absolutely flown by and today brought the first of my busy programme of running events scheduled for the final four months of Project Five O. I'd originally planned today's race, the Richmond River Run, as my final attempt at a 10k but coming too soon into my post-holiday training to offer any chance of a decent time, I decided to treat it as a more glamorous training run and have entered into another 10k race for the beginning of October.

A canoe gliding sedately by

About 500 runners set out at 9:00 am from Kew Green right outside the entrance to the world famous Botanical Gardens, and I positioned myself towards the back of the field. This turned out to be a tactical error as after 800 metres it was necessary to climb 8 narrow steps onto the tow path, and by the time I reached them a considerable queue (or should that be Kew?) had built up causing a delay of well over a minute and I experienced a sense of deja vu having spent most of last Friday afternoon stationary on the M25. If I'd been in with a realistic chance of achieving a PB today, this hold up would have dashed my hopes straight away. In the event, it was no more than a minor annoyance.

For the first 4 kilometres I maintained a steady if unspectacular pace, but started to slow slightly as the route turned for home at the half way stage after passing under Twickenham Bridge and a brief incursion into Richmond's Old Deer Park. Aptly named I thought at the time, not feeling at my most sprightly by this stage.

Camera shake on the move at the 8k mark

This section of the Thames is very pretty and extremely popular with joggers, walkers and cyclists even relatively early on a Sunday morning. This did necessitate a bit of dodging and weaving at times, and the tow path itself was a little uneven in places, interrupting my rhythm, but I thoroughly enjoyed the surrounding, which stirred great memories of when I walked the entire length of the river back in 1997. Not in one go I hasten to add, it took me 10 days, which amazingly is 2 days longer than the comedian David Walliams is hoping to swim it this week to raise money for Sports Relief. Now that's impressive.

Kew is directly under the Heathrow flightpath and I lost count of the number of aeroplanes passing overhead. It can't be much fun for the local residents, but there's something very exciting about being so close to aeroplanes just after they've taken off, wondering where they're off to and thinking about journeys you've been on in the past and ones to come. In my case, I found myself starting to get very excited about my work trip to Japan next month. And all the while I kept plodding on towards the finish, nearly grinding to a halt between 8 and 9k, before surprising myself with a very dynamic sprint finish. Before I knew it, it was time to receive my medal from the Mayor of Richmond.

The Mayor of Richmond waiting to place a medal around my neck.

My time was slow as I had expected, 1:09:18, but I was encouraged by the thought that, but for the queue at the steps, it would have been my second fastest 10k time of the year, although still a long way short of my PB for 10k. Realistically I'm coming to the view that my I may never be able to regain sufficient speed in my legs to achieve my times of 5 years ago for the shorter distances (if you can call 10k, 6.25 miles short) and my best chance of achieving a PB may well be in the Florence Marathon in November. Nevertheless, I'm going to give this particular distance one last go for Project Five O in the Hertfordshire 10k on 9th October.