There are hills, and then there are Bradford City Half Marathon Hills! (my entry for the 5th annual WWFOR!)

I don’t recall right off how many half marathons I have run. But I can say that I have never run one as difficult as the one I ran on Sunday! I go by the name“Hillrunner” on a health realted website (Sparkpeople) because no matter which road I choose to come back home, I have to come up hills to get back to my village. At the Bradford City Half Marathon yesterday, I more than earned my name!!!
Bradford is a small city a little more than an hour east of me over in the county of Yorkshire, UK through the Yorkshire Dales (Moors) and into “Bronte Country”. Those of you familiar with English Literature will recognize the Wuthering Heights setting by Emily Bronte. The countryside is vast, expansive, picturesque and full of hills!!
Graham and I made the early morning trip to be ready prior to the 9am start. It was clear, cool, and crisp. Dropping off our kit bag to retrieve at the finish we made our way to the start funnel. Since he is much quicker than me I remained half way back as he moved closer to the start line. The chip timing would be very helpful as it would give an accurate accounting of my finish. My training for my marathon had being going well so I was optimistic that I could do a PB in this race. All that was going to change after mile 4!
With the sound of the start horn ringing in my ears, it only took seconds for me to cross the mat and start my ascent that I would soon learn would just go on and on and on. I was on my goal pace of 12 min/mile until in mile 3 the climb took a sharp increase. The total ascent for the first 4 miles was over 600 feet!! When we reached the 6 mile mark the elevation had already hit 1,000 feet. I kept thinking that what goes up MUST come down, eventually??!!
The crispness of the day and freshness of the air made the hilltop running spectacular and at about miles 7-8 I started to feel like my breath was returning. The panoramic views were stunning and I soaked them in. The locals dotted the rural roads and offered their much welcomed cheers of support. I relished the spotty downhill places and let my gears open up and relaxed enough so that when the road levelled off and undoubtedly climbed again I had the leg strength and stamina to keep going.
I had considered printing out a pace band to wear during the race, but after the first half I was glad that I was just depending on my Garmin to guide me. I think I might have gotten too disheartened to see the goal time I was aiming for slipping further away with subsequent miles. What looks good on paper is just that, it doesn’t take into account what will be met on the road, and these roads were incredible!
By now at mile 9 the ascent seemed to turn into a slow decent with short teasing and leg punishing uphill parts. I found my mile splits beginning to even out with being able to sprint on the downhill. Then came the cruelness of the “king/queen of the mountain” challenge part. Nearing mile 11 where the road takes a steep downhill the bottom had been equipped with a timing mat and the challenge was which ever man and woman that could make the quickest assent up the almost half mile 200 foot elevation gain would win a “King/Queen of the hill” shirt. Those who had gone before me had nothing to worry about. I inwardly chuckled as I passed over the bottom mat and saw what awaited ahead! My run had turned into a hand on quads slower paced “just get this over with” as I climbed to finally meet the timing mats pair at the top.

I pushed hard as I crested the top of the hill and along the now tree lined street I welcomed the cheers of those there to witness the final downhill run of that last 1.5 miles. I found myself running alone in full flow down the middle of the traffic free road. Those applause were for only me and I used them as fuel to enable me to increase my pace. I could feel the pressure on my toes; I told myself I was strong. I could feel tightness in my left quad; I told myself I had strong legs. I could feel the tiredness creeping into my breathing; I told myself this race would be finished in less that 20 minutes and to just continue to flow down into the park like water rushing down a hill side.
I then saw the left turn into the park and passed several other runners I had seen at the start and now were just attempting to put one tired foot in front of the other. I found new energy as I sped passed Sunday park visitors and half marathon completed athletes, and shouted a warning of “RUNNER” to alert them to not get in my way. I desperately wanted to finish strong and not collide in the final 400 meters!
I had a sneaky feeling that this race was going to end the way it had started…uphill..and I was right. The run through the park and to the very edge made it necessary to do a u turn up the other side. I dug deep into what reserve I had left and pushed on and then saw Graham poised in the distance to capture my final moments. He snapped and then joined me along side to encourage me to just keep focused and I was nearly there. He told me I had done a great time on that difficult course. He then stopped to enable me to make the final right turn along the finishing funnel and step over the timing mat with a finish of 2:47:07.
I was exhausted, elated, breathless and extremely pleased at my determination to not once give up during this race. Not once did I let up and relax my attack. This race was more than a half marathon to me, it was a testing ground for what I am made of. I'm ready, I'm prepared, bring on the PHILADELPHIA MARATHON! (On this very difficult course, speedy Graham finished in a remarkable time of 1:37:08 and finished 2nd in his age group.)

London's Legend and My Marathon

The inspirational reading on my daily calendar today pretty much sums up my attitude toward marathon running—“If you can’t fly, run. If you can’t run, walk. If you can’t walk, crawl. But by all means, keep moving”. King

Sometimes during the course of the 26.2 miles (42K) marathon distance I go through each of the above phases. However, my mind remains fixed on that waiting, beckoning finish line, and I continually push onward. This was the pull London had on me even before stepping into my start corral at Blackheath on 25 April 2010 in Greenwich. Because a race/event begins long before the starting line it; it’s that idea that I CAN DO THIS, and so I WILL.

My husband and I arrived in London Thursday afternoon and followed our three time before routine of getting to our hotel, dropping our bags and heading to the race expo to secure our numbers, kit bags and scour the exhibitor booths for clothing, running gadgets and the like. This is always a memorable occasion and we always document it with photographs. Often times we or I return the next day catch any last opportunity to pick up a bargain or catch a glimpse of any running celebrity.

So it was that Friday morning we made a return trip after an evening’s think about some new shoes. It was on our sweep through the show floor that we noticed people congregating at one of the booths and on closer inspection my husband excitedly came back over to me and announced that it was Paula Radcliffe!! OH MY!!! Paula...THE Paula was standing just a few feet away from us and we had cameras in hand.... (If you aren't aware, Paula is the World Record Holder for the Women's Marathon 2:15:25 and is from the UK and ran it in London) We joined the autograph/picture line and the Legend that is Paula was gracious as she signed my running shoe and posed for a never to be forgotten photo! I babbled something about how we had just watched two nights before, for inspiration, our recording of the 2008 NYC Marathon which we ran and she won. Meeting her was like being touched by running royalty and sprinkled by magic dust. The experience left me in awe and wowed by a very special pre-marathon moment.

On Saturday it was time to turn our focus to preparing for Sunday’s race. We had both finished our last easy paced shorter distance runs around Canary Wharf and even got to run along the marathon route marked by the this years RED line (in recognition of the Virgin Corp sponsoring the race). Our evening pre race meal was jacket potatoes with cheese and a light salad provided by room service so we would do as little walking as possible. Marathon Sunday Morning started early; 0400 and we were awake with nerves already in second gear!

Always before a race my stomach just churns with excitement and I do my best to calm them by just robotically going through the same routines of preparing muesli/fruit/milk breakfast, packing after race sandwiches and drinks; mixing up sport drink for my hydration pack during the race ( I don’t use the race provided drink, don’t like it), showering and then putting the last items in the kit bag to carry up to the start area to be then deposited in the trucks that will transport them for me to collect at the finish. At 0700 we left our hotel and began the exodus of the “Red Bag People” towards Greenwich.

I had planned our route to the start with precision so we would have as little walking as possible. We took the Docklands Light Railroad from the Docklands area to Greenwich where we walked a short distance to catch the above ground train to the next stop at Maize Hill. Then it was an approximate one mile uphill to the start areas.

As my husband had secured a good for age entry his start area would be different than my club provided entry and once guiding him to his GREEN START area and giving him a kiss and wishing him a strong and fast finish time, I walked onward to the larger BLUE start.

My mind now began its focus on the task at hand; prepare myself during the next hour or so with the routines I have done six times before. These routines do help to settle me in some respects, but as the minutes creep towards that moment of turning in my kit bag my nerves just go into overdrive.

I mentally check off from my list each item as I finish; potty breaks, waist pack of gels, phone, tissues, money, ibuprofen secured; watch replaced with Garmin, USA bandana secured on my head, MP3 player on arm and playlist cued and ready to go; race shoes replaced walking shoes; over-pants removed. A quick phone call to my hubby over in the green start and a final strong running wish and then I hurriedly put on the rain poncho obtained at the expo from one of the charities as the predicted spot showers begin and then turn in my kit bag; it’s TIME! Time to go to my start corral. Time to trust my training. Time to make another Marathon Memory! Time to DO LONDON, again!

The race start areas are divided into 3 sections; RED, BLUE, and GREEN. The elite races all begin from the BLUE start. The Elite women were already on the course and by the scene on the big screen they were already past the 5K mark! Next the wheelchair athletes began and that would signal just 5 minutes until the Elite Men and the Mass start. Too far from the start line to hear the start signal it was the view across the grass field of a sea of runners moving that alerted me the marathon had begun. Nine minutes later I could see the start gate and then hear the electronic bond of my timing chip with the mat. MY race had now started.

There had been a glitch in the last 10 minutes prior to my start…my Garmin 305 would NOT turn on! The instrument I was counting on to help me maintain and gauge my pace/speed/HR was not going to be available. I was devastated! I was going to be running blind and it shook me. The only hope I had of knowing how I was doing was to notice the clock time at the mile markers and try to keep the same margin of minutes throughout the course. (Something to be said about keeping a watch on the other wrist.)I had prepared a race time band that would be of some assistance when mentally attempting to figure my pace/splits.

I was listening to my body and my own breathing to gauge how I was running. I could tell I was at a quick pace the first couple of miles. As runners streamed past me I kept my focus on what I felt like. How was my body responding? It is so easy to get caught up with what the “others” are doing and attempt to keep pace.

The rain had passed and now the humidity of the morning began to settle in. I registered the “Come on Mary” shouts I heard as I passed by the spectator lined street sides. I passed the 5K marker with a split that was quicker than my pace band. I was on target for my desired finish. This is the area of the course where the RED start runners join onto the road I was on. The road remains divided for a short distance and then we run as ONE unit until the finish.

Water stations were provided more frequently than the mile distance previously arranged as organizers anticipated temperatures into the mid 70sF. This was not the case as the cloud cover stayed with us well into the halfway point.

I kept focus as best I could with the music softly playing in my ears so I could also soak in the on course entertainment. My 10K split was still slightly under my projected time. It seemed like each pub along the way had either a band outside or music blaring from speakers to cheer and encourage us along. The children’s attempts to “high-five” us as we went by was as if to capture some of that “magic dust” I felt when I met Paula just two days previous.

The turn onto Tower Bridge always takes me by surprise! It sends chills and brings a wide smile because to see that span above you is simply amazing and words can’t express. It’s one of the very few uphill in the course and is deafening by 3 deep rows of cheering and shouting spectators. This is defiantly the first “ROCK STAR” moment of the race.

The clouds for the moment had passed and warm sunshine necessitated a few side stepping diversions into the course provided showers. The short respite was a welcome relief as I now was entering the part of the course where the quicker runners were at mile 22 and I was barely half way.

My eyes scanned the approaching fast flowing ribbon of sub 3:30 projected finishers for my husband. If we were both on pace there was a possibility of us passing so I positioned myself along the left side of the road. These amazing athletes were moving at close to twice my pace and deserved respect for their achievements. Due to my pace in the previous 10K I realized that my husband was well passed this portion of the course and nearing his final few miles along The Embankment. How I wish I was that close to finishing! The course now turned and headed toward the Isle Of Dogs and the Docklands; a portion of the race that had unravelled me before.

Going through the mile markers at 15 and 16 I could tell my time was slipping. I was developing an uncomfortable ache in my periformis (R glut muscle) and it wouldn’t stop. I had some pain relief pills that as a last resort I took at mile 16. I pressed on and the support at Mile 17 was encouraging and the smells of barbeques and Sunday lunches filled the air. I was now approaching the financial district of Canary Wharf and the tall glittering office buildings and the winding streets. I could feel a rubbing on the top of my R foot and could tell that the area was raw and if I didn’t stop for assistance I would not be able to endure the final 7 miles.

Reluctantly at 19 miles I sought out the St. John’s Ambulance first aid station and asked for assistance. This stop I knew would cost at least 10 minutes in my final time, but you do what you have to do. With a now bandaged toe I vowed that I would attempt to catch some of the runners that had passed by while I was being treated.

Blocking the discomfort of my glut muscle, the tightness in my IT Band and the bandaged toe, (all on my R leg) I continued my pursuit of the golden finish gates just 6 miles further. I approached the area where over an hour before I witnessed the sea of quicker runners pass me, now I passed the dismantling crew removing signs across the barrier. The Blackfriars Tunnel was ahead and crowds of people still adorned the overpass. A sign above announced that in just THREE miles I would make history! I held on to that thought….THREE, just three more miles.

Entering the tunnel I needed to stretch my tight IT Band and found the tunnel side a suitable stretching post. Then it was off again to make my way through the dampness and asphalt stickiness from sport drink/gels to the light of The Embankment and the River Thames.

Here I welcomed the tree sheltered street, the view of the Thames to my left, The London Eye further along and then the tall soldier like stance of Big Ben. Cheering crowds were still present as a woman ahead caught my focus. I remembered her passing me while I was stopped for assistance, I was now determined to not only catch her but stay ahead of her. My mind shifted to something to divert its continual reminder to me of the bodily discomforts I was feeling. Now I could reel her in foot strike by foot strike. Before the turn onto Birdcage walk, less than a mile from the finish I overtook her and planned to keep it that way.

Big Ben’s loud 4 o’clock chiming announcement singled to me that I was now 15 min beyond the finish time I was hoping for. I pressed on and continued running when others around me had been reduced to continual walking. It hurt my hip more to walk than run, so I kept running. I ran passed the Houses of Parliament, passed earlier finishers making their way from the area, passed the overhanging sign that stated just 385 yards left. Passed the 800 metre sign, then the 400 metre. I know that is just once around the track....I kept that illustration as I pressed forward.

Buckingham Palace was on my left the quick lean to the right, the large projection screen on the left and then that final welcoming right turn to see the yellow finish gates across the expanse of the Mall. Applauding and cheering crowds lined the finishing straight either in the stands or against the fences, The Union Jack adorned the flag posts and photographers positioned themselves to capture the last steps of a long yet rewarding journey to the awaiting final timing mat. My arms outstretched, I mentally pulled that gate toward me and ran through the finish line of my seventh marathon.

No personal best time like my husband’s amazing 3:18:43, no second goal time of less than 6 hours because Big Ben’s chime announcing 4 o’clock signalled that. Just the warm satisfaction of completing something I had set as a goal in the best manner I could. I kept moving and finished in 6:18:01....and never ever quit!