Without wishing to repeat EG’s report, mine starts at the gun.
It took us over two minutes to cross the chip mat and we ran together for the first K or so. I remember thinking how loud his footfalls were compared to everyone else’s, well either that or it was deliberate to remind me of the battle to come.
I quickened my pace slightly to put some distance between us, and as we rounded the turn at Black Rock I had gained a 20 yard advantage. I scanned the faces running towards me and saw him. A wry smile crossed my face….the bugger had removed his bright yellow cap! I knew why he’d done it, and it gave me a little extra determination to acknowledge that he was playing a cagey game. Luckily, he didn’t see me.
I plodded on, concentrating on controlled breathing and steady pace. The first water station was preceded by a carpet of plastic cups and I gratefully took one from a helper’s outstretched arm. Attempting to glug on the hoof only resulted in me choking as I tried to swallow at the same time as breathe.
With the wind in our face all the way to the 6.5k turn point at The King Alfred I pressed on, head down. Far too soon for my liking I saw the out-riders following the leader who had broken away from the lead group. Gary of this parish was one of these riders, I shouted to him but he was busy trying to keep us slowbees to the left and didn’t hear. Turns out the race was won in record time for men and women, so ideal conditions then.
Prior to the run I had toyed with the idea of wearing a watch. I don’t have a GPS jobby but my usual watch could tell me whether I was on to achieve my goal of breaking the 60 minutes. In the end I decided against, using the logic that if I were to push myself for the whole way I would be unlikely to be able to go faster if necessary, and wouldn’t slow down if I were up on schedule either.
At the turn I scanned the faces again hoping to catch sight of EG,
sans cap. It worried me slightly that I couldn’t see him as I started to believe that he must therefore be right on my arse. This thought, coupled with the wind in my back spurred me on, and I watched the derelict West Pier get closer as I tried to quicken my pace.
It was as I was approaching the Palace Pier, (and with less than a mile to go) that I started to wonder whether I had done enough to break the hour. Past the pier and onto Maderia drive and I could see the finish clock. 00:59:15. My first thought was that I couldn’t do it. I upped the pace again and heard a shout from a lone figure to my left.
Looking every inch a roadie, was Sweder. I couldn’t see his face as he was camera poised, but with shorts, black top and enormous black stetson it could only be one man. I was glad he found the time to come down and I raised a hand as I ran by, attempting a grin whilst trying to look like I wasn’t trying.
00:59:40 and now I’m sprinting, overtaking finishers and beginning to think I could make it. Claire later told me that Tannoy Man was literally screaming at us finishers, urging us on to beat the hour, but to be honest I didn’t hear a thing. My mind was totally focussed on the clock and the reducing yardage to the chip mat. I ran flat out for the last 80 yards or so and crossed the line with 3 seconds to spare. 00:59:57 clock time, 00:57:39 chip time.
Not having sprinted like that since school, I had to lean on the barriers gulping down huge lungfuls of air for a good 2 minutes before I could shuffle on to get my medal and chip removed. No water though and I needed some, so blagged a gulp from an earlier finisher who obviously took pity on my appearance.
Claire wasn’t where we’d agreed she’d be and I started to get cold, so I walked back to find Sweder and meet Tom who had finished so much earlier that he’d had time to get changed.
I finally spotted Claire talking with EG who had by then also finished. We congratulated each other on both achieving fine PB’s, but to be honest I really expected a dollop more humility from the man who had just been soundly put in his place.
Suzie has already said here that our light-hearted rivalry probably helped us both achieve what we did, and I think she’s right. I certainly didn’t want to lose, and reckon that was what took me under the hour too.
So, £20 goes to JDRF courtesy of EG. Here’s hoping he gets the chance for revenge before too long.
(L-R SP & EG at start; Snot-laden at 2K; some old bloke at 2K; Race for the Line)
Onwards to Brighton
