I was very much looking forward to getting home after the Conwy Half Marathon today. I'll get to the point - I needed the pan. You don't often hear much about toilet issues in running magazines or websites, but let's be honest, it's an 'issue'. An integral part of race preparation is planning when to go, sizing the queue and balancing that with your need and the amount of time to go before the gun. There's probably a neat algorithm that can sort this for you, taking on board the vast and troubling variables involved.
So at Conwy, there must have been a meeting between runwales.com and the local council that went something like this: Tempt them all here with our 'the most scenic half marathon you'll ever run' line, get them to spend their English pounds in our coffee shops and cafes, then...see that toilet in the car park we make them use, yup, close that, and the big public toilets that all the street signs point to up by the Castle, yup, close that too (I did ask a man, 'will these toilets be opening?' - 'nope, not today') and then what we'll do is provide, let's say 10, no eight, wait - seven, yes seven, we'll provide seven portaloo's for the 1600 runners.
Yup, that's what we'll do. Brilliant! Now, I don't mind queuing, I'm British, I was born to queue. But I'm also a delicate and emotionally un-balanced man. I'm not a guy who takes his Sunday papers to the bog usually, but I do perform better when conditions are just so, not when some meat-head from Tough Bastards Running Club is banging on the door in public view on the quayside yelling 'what the fuck are you doing in there'. Very little as it turned out, so it was with a degree of unease that I kept Mr Brown waiting in reception for most of the day.
And the 'ad' at the top of this page and the guy cleaning the crap off his bike...couldn't help thinking about this as I ran round. Ironic, I thought!
Anyway, the run. 1.35.00. I have no idea where that time came from. I thought maybe 1.45. I wasn't racing, I was mostly dicking around taking photos of this and movies of that and generally enjoying the run. For it was a great run, great weather, stunning views and a very enjoyable atmosphere. As a result I'm now left thinking that if I put in the effort, I could crack that 1.30 barrier at Wilmslow next March. There...I've said it!
Moving on. The Orme. I knew it was coming as I've run this route before, so was kind of holding back, unknowingly turning out sub 7min/miles for the first 5, which is crazy, but I guess the emotions of the day just carried me on. To be honest, perhaps my calm attitude helped, and taking photos was fun and helped pass the time without obsessing over my splits. It was such a great day. I took the Orme steady, but was joined on my shoulder by the gruntiest grunting man ever. Every breath I was convinced was to be his last, but no, here comes another gasping huurgaaaghug...
I had to turn around to take a look with my 'WTF' face, only to see some young kid looking proper chipper. Seriously. Over the top and this time no wind on the down leg, so I caned it...and it lasted. I didn't burn out. Another thing that kept me going, the marshals. Do you ever hear those runners who are always saying 'thank you' to the marshals? You know, the annoying people who make you think that if you had enough breath for that, you'd be better off spending it on running rather than chatting. Well, that was me today.
But every time I shouted a 'thanks' and they replied, it was like another surge of adrenaline kicked in, and I was running on this perpetual wave. I never looked at my watch once for a time, so when I saw the finish line and a 1.34 something showing, I was both pleased, yet also wondered what I could have really done. But you know what, I enjoyed the day just as it was. Fish and chips as a reward, then the drive home. A good day out. Yes, I was indeed glad I'd done it!
