Boy, was this tough! The Malvern Joggers 10k was my third race over that distance in 10 days, and felt like it! The event was relatively local but nonetheless well attended, with 271 runners competing in all. It was also very well organised, I must say: no veering off in the wrong direction this time! All I knew about the course beforehand was that it was 'undulating', which of course left a lot of room for interpretation. Not knowing what to expect, it was difficult to set a target. I thought 45 minutes might be realistic, but I really wasn't sure.
The starting area afforded everybody plenty of space (oddly, we were counted in by a pair of Chuckle Brother lookalikes!). From the off, I nestled in among a few runners just behind the leading pack and made my way along a remote tarmac road. Mile 1 passed by in 6m 49s -- pretty respectable, I thought, given the gentle incline.
We branched left onto a woodland trail and the hills got a little steeper, just enough so that I could feel them. After another few hundred yards we emerged onto a grassy knoll, climbing all the while. I clocked mile 2 in 7m 44s. By this point I was pretty puffed but could finally see the brow of a hill. Over the first 2.25 miles, the course rose from 175 to 510ft. By no stretch of the imagination was it a fell run, but to an unsuspecting road runner like me it was a challenge!
As we reached that first peak, I thought I recognised one of my fellow runners (though there's a limit to how familiar the back of a person's head can be!). I pulled alongside him and sure enough, it was the guy I had spent the entire Ross 10k behind. We had a brief exchange and, knowing that he had finished a good few seconds ahead of me last time, I sat in just behind him. Ultimately, he would finish some 22 places ahead of me. I guess either he was more accustomed to the hills or his legs were fresher than mine! We coasted downhill for about two-thirds of a mile before beginning another brief climb just before the next mile marker. Mile 3: 7m 32s.
The next three-quarters of a mile were quite emphatically downhill, mostly on tarmac. I was tired, but I picked up my pace as best I could. At the foot of the hill was a water station. I grabbed a cup of water and, faced with another climb, I used the excuse to walk for a couple of paces. Mile 4 took me 6m 53s, thanks largely to gravity.
The hill set in just after the drinks station and seemed to go on forever. In reality, it rose by about 225ft over three-quarters of a mile. My quads were burning. I was slowing to a crawl. I wasn't going to stop, was I? Where had all my will power gone? Sure, I was tired, but what was new? Why should I stop here? Eventually, my legs conceded defeat. I walked. I was immediately disappointed in myself. I thought about my injury and the lack of speed and hills in my training. It had all knocked my confidence. I may still have been climbing, but in every other sense I had hit a trough. As ever, the other runners offered me a few words of encouragement, I picked myself up and slogged my way to the top. Mile 5: 8m 37s. If Garmins could laugh, mine would have been cackling like a hyena.
The remaining 1.2 miles or so were entirely downhill. I tried for a bit of a spurt and was hit by a stitch almost straight away. Probably all that stooping up the last hill! Gradually, the pain increased and my breath grew short and sharp. I felt like I was functioning on half my lung capacity. With the end almost in sight, I slowed to a walk again. I was no longer disappointed: I was angry. This was pathetic. I had to pull myself together. There goes mile 6: 6m 35s. A few hundred yards to go. I picked up the pace again, taking in what air I could. Another runner passed me by but I had no response. The finish line had never felt so empty. I think I'm going to have to exorcise this performance next year.
I'll be back
Time: 45m 55s (total ascent: 705ft)
Avg pace: 7m 18s / mile
Position: 43 of 271 (putting me in the top 16%)
GPS data here and official results here
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