Thames Meander Half Marathon

"Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long."
T.S. Eliot; The Wasteland

What with various seasonal travels, so many summer races, a seemingly endless cycle of gearing up to and down from said efforts, and unfortunate but unavoidable recovery from falling off the new bike, I cannot be described as having been on any kind of consistent training plan recently and have really had to take each week/day as it comes. Especially having focussed my efforts on much shorter but faster races since the marathon in April, my weekly mileage has dropped right down and I'm really not sure, despite my 13.1 mile ParkRun Sandwich last week, that I was as prepped as I could have been for the Thames Meander Half Marathon on Saturday. I have to say in respect of this though, how glad I am that after much deliberation I did finally settle on registration for the half not full marathon course! I've been fully aware of the potential compromises in performance I've been making by trying to cram so much in though and that statement is in no way intended as any kind of excuse, more just scene setting.

To avoid any energy drain from travelling, I headed down a day early and decided to pay a visit to the Hawker Centre (the start and end point of the race) as I'd never actually been there before, even though this was a return to 'home turf' for me (I was born & studied in Kingston). Since I had the afternoon free I thought I may as well check it out and eliminate any possibility of getting lost in the morning! When I got there, (and it was very easy to find) I noticed almost instantly a white van packed with familiar, neon CAUTION RUNNERS signs. "Are you getting ready for tomorrow?" I ventured. Cue a chat with the race director, who was indeed about to spend the next 5 hours marking the courses in preparation for the morning. This encounter eventually culminated in being volunteered for 'portaloo duty'; the, ahem, 'facilities' were due to be delivered sometime in the next hour and I was stationed to direct the engineers to the correct location, thus enabling a head start in the course marking. I tried to get a queue jumping pass for my efforts but actually there was enough provision that this was never a problem anyway. It was nice to feel I had in some way made a contribution or supported the event in a capacity beyond my registration fee and made me think again that I really must make time to volunteer at ParkRun.

The Hawker Centre; check out the very well positioned Portaloos!

Some Hawker History; about the aircraft factory

Speaking of which, as luck would have it, it turns out that Kingston ParkRun meets at the Hawker Centre too and as the race didn't set off until 10, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss! As such, it was at about half past 8 on Saturday morning as I strolled up Richmond Road that I spotted my first runner. "Are you doing the full or half marathon?" I queried, only to be left feeling mildly inadequate when it turned out to be the full 26.2! We carried on chatting about all the sorts of things runners chat about until Kieron (my mum's partner, who also came along to the Newham Anniversary Run) asked how we knew each other! Well, I suppose it had been a bit of a guess but I've never known a non-runner kitted out in Mizuno! Yet more proof, should any be needed, of just what a friendly bunch runners are and the sense of community it seems to instil. No questions asked, if you run, you're one of my people, yo! Further examples of this throughout the day included various chats and natters, including a mid ParkRun boost from one chap who seemed terribly impressed that I was doing ParkRun as well as the later race, despite my disclaimer that I was only doing the half. "I'm only really running this at warm up pace anyway" I explained as I carried on past him, hoping both that I didn't appear too arrogant for doing so and that I wasn't underestimating the effect of having three miles in the legs before starting. It was useful to do though as it followed some of the same route so I felt good and mentally prepared, with few unknown factors.

At the Start!

The Out-and-Back Route

It wasn't long after ParkRun (complete in 23:31!) that it was time to head back out to the start of the main event! Just enough time for a drink, a loo break and a bit of a kit shuffle, hopping about and breaking into impromptu stretches all the time to try and avoid cooling off!

Despite warnings from organisers to be prepared for rain, we enjoyed a lovely day; sunny and fine but not too hot. There was a bit of wind against us on the way back, but really pretty ideal conditions all told. It occurred to me how lucky I felt to be able to enjoy the feeling of wind and sun on my skin, a sense of physical freedom and harmony with such a beautiful environment as my body functioned mechanically as trained leaving my mind to relax and soak up the surroundings. Various weekend day trippers and assorted curious by standers offered support as the local Thames seagulls joined in with their distinctive cries.

"Weialala leia
Wallala leialala"

Running bliss continued, no pressure of time goals to aim for, PB not planned on a trail path upon which I expected to encounter far more bottlenecks and runner-jams than proved a reality, and nothing but a calm appreciation for the aesthetic route and the act of running... until shortly after the turnaround point.

"Richmond and Kew undid me."

Now, I am not a stranger to the varied and wonderful world of digestive responses to running. It's actually quite impressive just how creative a stomach and bowel can be in letting you know how they feel about being repeatedly jiggled up and down for a period of time. Jogger's Trots, Runner's Tummy, call it what you like, if you've regularly run more than a mile or two then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, or by some miraculous possession of an iron gut are still oblivious then I'll spare you the details. To put it politely, however, Banana and Bagel Breakfast suddenly decided to settle down to a bit of alone time and made a polite but assertive request to Last Night's Savoury Rice to vacate the premises in order to facilitate this.

Gurgle. ‘I can run through this. I've NEVER stopped on a race before!’

Squirm. ‘Just think of other things, Ooh, what a pretty, erm, stone, litter bin, river view, muddy puddle!'

Glug. 'Oh blimey.'

At this point, I noticed, as mile 8 beeped past on my wrist that my pace had slowed from between about 7:15/7:22 minute miles to an almost 7:40 minute mile and this was the catalyst to my eventual response to the subsequent flurp. 'Sod the river view, check out this awesome bush!'
As stated, I had not been aiming to PB or bag a particular time, my main objective had been to enjoy the day, which I had until this point been successfully achieving however…  There’s ‘not aiming for a particular time’ and there’s ‘dying on my arse with an embarrassing outcome’ so it seemed sensible to sacrifice some moving time in order to facilitate both improved comfort (enabling me to better achieve my primary goal) and return to a more acceptable pace (thus avoiding the latter concern). I think the technical term is a ‘pit stop’. In this instance ‘ditch stop’ would be more appropriate. We will leave it at that and I shall subject you to no further adjectives, leaving you to paint your own delightful mental picture of said events. Strangely, (or not!) I felt much better when I was finally back on the path and though mile 9 came in at 8:13 (I didn’t pause the Garmin as I wanted a realistic idea of my chip time), I was soon back to a slightly less consistent, but far more acceptable pace.

Mile Splits

Needless to say, that did throw a bit of a spanner in the works and there were a couple of times on the way back, when the sun dipped behind the fluffy white clouds, where I did feel a little lower. This was the point at which I remembered that Kieron was waiting for me at the finish, and that by the time I got there, my mum would also be on the scene and was bringing with her a picnic lunch. I didn’t feel even remotely hungry so it wasn’t for the love of houmous sandwiches that this gave me a boost, it was genuinely the thought of this support from family that warmed my little running cockles and sped some extra ‘oomph’ down past the mildly grumpy left knee and into the gradually tiring leggies! I am an independent sort of person and am happy to go off to events and races alone, in fact I ran my first half marathon without anyone with me, but I have to say now I know that support from family and friends can make a real difference, especially when you know they don’t give two figs for running themselves!

Approaching The Finish!

Sure enough, as I ran up the grassy stretch to the finish arch, inflatable thingummy I spotted Kieron with his camera and managed to flash a silly face as is my wont (though it maybe for the best it wasn’t captured this time!) before turning round, clutching my most impressive medal yet, for a proper sports day moment when I saw my mum standing up from where she had been sitting. Actually this is in no way reminiscent of genuine school sports days in which I commonly straggled across that dry summer grass in firmly last place and certainly received no medals.

It was more often with tear stained cheeks of suppressed humiliation in having been forced to compete in an event I had (at the time) absolutely no interest in than the ruddy afterglow of a race well run that I turned to face my mum at these events. It felt good to be hammering a nail in the coffin of that particular demon; and with not a beanbag in sight!
I finished on a chip time of 1:38:26, which is, if I have correctly calculated it, 75 seconds off my PB but  a minute or so faster than my last two half marathons. I was 6th female, in at 46th overall and as the lady ahead of me finished in 1:35:48 I can’t honestly say that my unscheduled stop had any impact on the race results really.

Yes, it may have been that without that I could have been closer to, or even achieved a PB, but I wasn’t exactly trying to run as fast as possible so I’m not convinced! I still very much enjoyed both the run and the day and it was good to thank the race director at the end as well as chat to various competitors who had their own experiences of success or frustration! In mind especially amongst these is a conversation with one runner who, with a fractured clavicle, was dressed in ‘civvies’ (!) and waiting instead for his partner to complete. His well-tempered and supportive manner was commendable as his frustration was also clearly palpable and I was left feeling just very grateful that I’d been able to even run. As we went on to enjoy our picnic by the river though, this morphed into a feeling of laziness as the hardier (and faster!) marathon runners began to filter in past us.

Race Results

Top Ten Women

I have become accustomed to a slow, relaxing swim after a long run or race as I find it a very therapeutic part of my general recovery plan (along with refuelling and cramming myself into compression socks!), so I decided to take myself off on a bit of a nostalgia trip in the afternoon, checking in for a dip in the pool at the Kingsfisher Leisure Centre. This is where my school used to come for swimming lessons, as well as the venue for much early teenage mucking about with friends! I maybe haven’t been there for about 15 years so it was surprising how familiar it felt, even swimming against the periodic effects of the wave machine; a feature I had all but forgotten and never encountered in any other pool! Later that evening I met up again with mum at my favourite restaurant, the Riverside Vegetaria. A characteristically delicious meal (I polished off half of mum’s too!) became even more memorable when shortly before our food arrived a gentleman approached the table and asked if I had run the marathon today. ‘No’ I admitted, ‘Just the half!’ but it transpired he had recognised me from his participation in the ParkRun and come over to ask how I’d got on. As he’d come third in ParkRun, I didn’t have any similarly impressive news to impart but it was yet another very enjoyable example of runner’s bonding instinct and very nice to be recognised!

I have long been a fan of T. S. Eliot and have quoted one of my favourite poems, The Waste Land, at various appropriate points throughout this text. The opening quote is obviously relevant and one line that often comes to mind when I return to the Thames area. So many important events in my life happened in close proximity to the Thames that it is always close to my heart. It wasn’t until I came to write this and think of a conclusion, however that I realised how relevant the closing lines of the poem are too.

"Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih."

Taken from the Buddha’s Fire Sermon (Eliot blends many Eastern and Western religious references in his poem), these words are intended to reference some key qualities one should aspire to, these being generosity, compassion and self discipline. I have frequently mentioned how much I appreciate the community spirit one finds in runners and this generosity of spirit, as well as demonstrable support and compassion are not hard to recognise. The concept of self discipline, both physical and mental, in preparing for a race hardly needs explaining either. Through adequate training efforts and preparation one is able to accept the parameters of ability, accept outcomes, relax into the act of running, and have the emotional resources available to offer compassion and generosity to others in achieving their own goals. Train hard, engage meaningfully with others and you will be able to enjoy the run and find Shanti (peace). Very relevant. I wonder if Eliot was a runner!?