Race Review: The Wetherby 10k 8/9/2013

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Last year's mug; something I have often been called

A Cracking Little Yorkshire Run

Last year, after I had got over the disappointment of finding out this race wasn't actually run on Coronation Street, (apparently that's Wetherfield) I thoroughly enjoyed the Wetherby 10k put on by the Wetherby Runners AC and so decided I would enter again this year despite a choice of several races. The route is an undulating mixture of good, solid trails and road, setting out and finishing at the racecourse. The atmosphere is friendly and welcoming and it was one of my favourite races on last year's calendar. Seriously, who wouldn't want to get their hands on the beautiful and ma-hoo-sive Wetherby 10k mug that all finishers receive?! It's been used almost daily ever since I got mine last year. I plan to defend myself against burglars with it should one ever break in while I am home as I'm pretty sure it could easily fracture a skull.

The 2012 event had been run on one of the hottest days of the year and the heat had taken its toll on the runners, slowing the field down considerably. I had been just about holding 40 minute pace last year when mammaries went skyward at about 7k and I finished in over 43 minutes. Last year, my time placed me 94th, this year that same time would have moved me down over 40 places.
When Sunday dawned; slightly chilly and overcast at times, it felt like a great improvement on last year's soaring temperatures. Unusually though, this race starts at 2pm and by then it had warmed up a bit to 17C, perfect race weather and no chance of ending up a sodden puddle on the A1 from either sweat or rain.

I think they deliberately made it in the shape of a saddle...

Thinking about the race in advance it was difficult to gauge what time I was likely to do. I inconveniently forgot that I had run the twisty, turny, undulating, York 10k which is fairly comparable to this race in many ways, in just over 40 minutes only a few weeks ago. Consequently my brain told me I had no idea of whether I would get near 40 minutes on a predominantly trail race. As ever, I planned to gauge how I felt as I started running.

Race Day:

Enjoying a rare sleep in on a race day, I followed it with a leisurely breakfast of fresh ground coffee, bircher muesli (oats soaked in apple juice, greek yoghurt, grated apple, squirt of honey, banana and pecan nuts) and drove the short distance over to Wetherby. The racecourse is used to handling far more people than 1000 runners and friends so parking is very easy and as close to the start as any race I've ever done. Rebecca and I arrived in good time with around 45 minutes to the race and remembering last year's toilet situation, made use of the ample bushes around the car park instead. The excitement of race day had started to kick in as I drove there which I was pleased about; a bit of adrenaline can only help you on race day.  Numbers had been sent out in the post, but the race chip needed to be picked up at race HQ and there was no queue for this at all.

The race "village" was a bit larger than last year with a bouncy castle and a few stalls. The atmosphere felt like that of a small village carnival.

So I will have my usual quick grumble; it's my only one about this otherwise fantastically well organised race. And you've guessed it: the toilets. Last year the start had to be delayed due to queues at the loos and sadly that situation hadn't been rectified this year. I think there were 8 portaloos for over 800 runners and the many spectators; less than 1 toilet per 100 people. I guess I must be missing something because this happens at every single race I do. Maybe portaloos are really difficult to book? Perhaps they are incredibly expensive? Maybe someone who knows can let me in on the secret?

Ok, enough of that as I really have nothing else bad to say about this wonderful little race.

My quads have been feeling like planks of wood recently and I made sure I warmed them up with a short run and felt them loosen off nicely. Off we went to the start. I left Rebecca a little further back and made my way to the front. The atmosphere was jovial as the MC made friendly banter in between announcements,"Don't step on the timing mats; you will be electrocuted!"
I resisted the urge to step on them and pretend to be electrocuted. Mainly because I knew it might activate my chip and wreck my race timing.

Standing on the line I reflected on the fact that I had broken rule 1 of race day preparation: Never use anything new on race day.
And yet, there I was, wearing trainers bought only one day before and sunglasses I had never run in. I began to worry that the God of running would smite me with a thunderbolt for this terrible sin. I justified my decision of course; I had run 5k in the trainers yesterday and they felt great, My old sunglasses didn't fit me well and would sit on my forehead which would then cover them in sweat. The new ones had an adjustable nose grip. If worst came to the worst I could run with them in my hand. Anyway, it was only 10k, what could possibly go wrong in 40 minutes?

Nike Flex 2012, £45 from the Nike shop at Junction 32, Castleford, since you didn't ask.

HONK! And they're off!

The inflatable race arch stayed up this year (shame, it was hilarious when it collapsed last year) and on the sound of the horn, off we went. The start of the course is downhill along the road into the racecourse. As usual I used the downhill for some free speed and covered the 1st k in only 3:39. The road became track and I settled in to a comfortable pace. Then it became a physical and mental battle to hold that pace. The first few kilometres passed and my pace remained steady at 3:50. I was on for sub 39 minutes. The bridge over the A1 passed for the first time and I managed to maintain my speed across it. At 5k, the traditional(!?) bagpiper welcomed us and I grabbed a cup of water to wet my dry mouth. I glanced at my watch and realised I had broken my 5k PB.

At 6k I began to feel good. My pace quickened and I started to chase down  runners. In front of me was a Knavesmire Harrier who I recognised from other races and someone shouted out encouragement to her calling her Emma. As it turns out she has been first woman home in many local races and in fact had finished first woman at this very race last year. I didn't expect to catch her, but I started to inch closer with every step. It must have taken at least a couple of k, but I eventually caught her. Later I found out she finished a minute behind her time from last year despite the better weather conditions, so I can only assume that illness or injury have curtailed her training lately. Still it was pretty satisfying to 'beat' her. She even genuinely looked pleased when I passed her after the race and said it was the first time I'd ever beaten her. Perhaps it was just a reflex smile or maybe she felt happy that a man would be very pleased to beat her.

People think I'm mad, but my unicorn disagrees

At this point in the race I was expecting the usual debate with myself. Would Good Scott (GS) or Bad Scott (BS) turn up. I really didn't want to have to put up with too much BS on this run. GS had been in my ear all the way up until now. Not exactly confidently, but quietly keeping me going. BS was still trying to wrestle her gag off in the corner.
We came down off the A1 again and soon the worst part of the race arrived. A short sharp sprint up and down a small hill with a 180 degree turn at the top. GS began to shout at me, telling me to keep it going, push hard, don't let it slip now with only a mile and a bit to go. GS punched BS in the face and she slumped to the ground. (I'd like to point out that domestic violence is only acceptable inside my own brain between the imaginary folk in there and nowhere else!)

I could see the race course now and it still looked a depressingly long way away, but the track through the trees was there before I knew it, signalling the final stretch before turning on to the racecourse road for the sprint to the end. GS was doing all he could to keep me going. BS suddenly tore off her gag and informed me that I could walk it in under 40 from here, which was a terrible lie! Luckily GS drowned her out and I managed to put in a final spurt. The track turned sharply left up a steep, short incline and a sign informed me there was 400m to the finish. The young guy next to me that I had been trading places with sprinted away from me like a young gazelle. I went as hard as I could, but there wasn't much left. Glancing down at my watch I saw I had 30 seconds left to reach the finish and go under 39 minutes. I had no idea if that was possible, but every second I saved now was another off my PB.

Crossing the line, it was all I could do to keep up-right and once again, I forgot to turn off my GPS meaning I wasn't sure what time I had finished in. I would have an agonising wait to find out my time when the official results came through. My lungs burned as I forced my legs to walk around the finishing funnel. I bumped in to the race director and we said hello as we have talked on facebook before. He took a picture of my GPS watch and congratulated me on my time which was 4 and a half minutes quicker than last year.
Rounding the corner I picked up my trophy: A second Wetherby 10k mug, my favourite race souvenir of this, or any, year. I held it above my head like the FA cup and did fake cheer sounds, much to the amusement of the lady handing them out. I really wish other races would take a leaf out of this book and give out usable race souvenirs instead of ugly/garish t-shirts that end up stuffed and neglected in a drawer before ending up in a charity bin.
The goody bag was as good as any I have ever got and included a banana and a bottle of water. One of the many lovely touches from this race, and new for this year, was a small flannel tucked in to the mug. Brilliant!

I jogged off to the car and back dabbing my brow with the new flannel and waited for Rebecca with my cheap compact camera after deciding not to take my pro camera to the race. In she came finishing strongly with a chip time just under 52 minutes, her fastest time for a while.

After the race, leaving the racecourse was easy although we chose to forego the discounted fish and chips for competitors at the local chip shop.
Back at my house we wasted no time in in using our winnings.

Later that evening I learned that I had finished in 41st position out of 765 finishers in the race but had failed to break the 39 minute barrier coming in at 39:07, a PB by 20 seconds. I had also shaved 8 seconds off my 5k PB in the process! I had to be pleased, on a difficult course I had run only my second ever sub 40 time. So for the first time this year I had run " A good time" not "Good, with all things considered" I doubt I could have gone any quicker on the day than I did.

So will I be back again next year? Of course! I have to keep collecting those mugs! A Cracking Little Yorkshire Run? Aye lad, tha's reet about that.

The mug remained virginal at this point. The cup, not me. No fake tan was used in the making of this photo, honest!!