Canterbury 10 – one big struggle

Last weekend I completed my first race of the year – the Canterbury 10 mile road race, with around 1500 other runners. Canterbury is my home city and I love being able to take part in a race so close to where I live as logistics are an absolute doddle. It’s a hilly, scenic route which takes in the rolling countryside of the villages on the outskirts of the city – definitely my kind of race. I actually signed up for this race back in September last year as it gives you something to focus on during January and a reason not to just give up on training entirely over the festive period.

So it is safe to say I had been looking forward to this race for a good few months. That was until the week of the race itself. A few days beforehand illness struck and I felt completely exhausted. On the Friday I was starting to feel better but I still had a banging headache and I had hardly managed to get out and run at all that week. By Sunday morning I was totally dreading the thought of running 10 miles…let alone racing it.

To give you some background this was actually my third time running this event. 2017 was my first year. At this point I had only ever run one 10 mile race and that was a completely flat coastal route back in April 2016. For the Canterbury 10 in 2017 I managed to finish just a few minutes after my previous 10 mile time. I was happy with that considering it was a much more challenging route and the freezing fog made race conditions very difficult. In 2018 I knocked a staggering 6 minutes off my 2017 time to cross the line in 1:23:23.

In the 12 months since this race last year my running has come on leaps and bounds so I was feeling confident that I would get another PB this year. But this only added to the nerves leading up to the start line. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would feel if I didn’t get a PB especially when I considered how much my running has improved since the last time I ran this race. Now if someone else had told me that they were not looking forward to a race because they were worried they wouldn’t get a PB I would have told them not to be so ridiculous! But we are not always the best at heeding our own advice are we? Particularly as I am someone who likes to compete with myself and constantly strives for improvement.

For the entire week leading up to the race I had been checking the weather religiously as it had been threatening sleet showers. On the morning of the race I had got up early to take my eldest to swim club and it was raining hard and freezing cold at 6am. By the time we walked to race HQ just after 8am the rain had lessened but it was still very windy and freezing cold. This only added to my nerves. It’s a difficult course at the best of times but the added issue of non-favourable weather, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

I had calculated that if I stuck to around 5 minute kilometres (yes I still measure my runs in kms – feel free to judge me!) then I would be well on target to grab myself a massive PB. I had managed to stick to this pace, or there abouts, on training runs so I knew I would have it in me in race conditions to stay at this speed. But instead of reassuring me this only made me feel worse as I just kept thinking that if I don’t manage it I will only have myself to blame, which is simply not true. Anyway the race set off and as you can imagine with so many runners the first mile or so is incredibly bunched up. You have to weave your way in and out of the other runners so that you are able to settle into your comfortable pace. However, from the very first step everything felt uncomfortable. My shoulders felt tense, I couldn’t get my breathing right, I felt like I had my shoes on the wrong feet, my big toes hurt and I was getting uncharacteristically annoyed with everything and everyone around me. I knew then that I wasn’t going to have an enjoyable race.

At around 2 miles in I could see a commotion up ahead and runners were clearing the path. A female runner from another club had taken an unfortunate tumble and was lying on the ground crying out in pain, with her leg twisted at a very awkward angle. It was evident she had done some serious damage. Other runners had stopped to be with her whilst the medical attention arrived. It was really unsettling to see. I have since discovered that she broke her femur bone, poor woman, I hope she recovers quickly.

At 4 miles there is the first of 2 killer hills. This one is relatively short (around 400m) but really quite steep. My pace obviously slowed but I was managing to overtake some other runners up hill and this gave me a bit of a confidence boost. However, when I got to the top I was unable to enjoy the recovery because I just could not recover. My legs were done in and my lungs had simply had enough. Just after the half way point the course took a sharp left turn into a gentle incline straight into some awful headwind. I was still managing to dip in just under that magical 5 minute kilometre but I was finding it all such a huge effort. Usually at the half way point in a race I get a buzz from knowing that every step I take from that point onwards was another step closer to the finish line. Not this time. As I was running into that headwind, struggling to breathe and getting absolutely zero joy from running I knew that these final 5 miles would be the real battle.

I was completely right. Each mile felt like it lasted an eternity. I was cold, miserable and heavy footed. It was pure hard work and determination that got me through. I kept thinking there was absolutely no way I was going through this ordeal and getting a time I was not happy with. This was the only thought that kept me driven for those final few miles. I crossed the finish line in 1:22:40. 43 seconds faster than my previous PB.

When I crossed that finish line and someone kindly cut the timing chip from my shoe and hung a medal round my neck you would think that I would have felt ecstatic, over the moon, accomplished. Instead I just felt numb. Relieved the suffering was finally over but just numb. I had left everything out on the course and I was completely empty. But why did I feel this way? When you look at the facts I should have felt wonderful – I had managed a PB in awful weather conditions, despite being poorly that week. But something just didn’t sit right with me about this race.

I took some time to reflect on what had made me feel so rubbish about an otherwise incredible achievement. In all honesty I think it is that I am not used to having to work so hard for a PB. I am not saying that all of my achievements have come easy, far from it, it is more that I have been used to enjoying the events where I have done well. Don’t get me wrong, I have had bad races before, but these are the ones where I have had a bad result to match my bad experience. To go through all this pain and struggle for 10 miles then still end up with a result to be proud of was all new to me.

So what have I learned from all of this?
1. A bad experience is no reflection of my performance
2. Overthinking is the killer of enjoyment
3. Not all achievements come easy. Sometimes if you want something badly you absolutely have to work for it. The struggle to achieve what you really want is likely to hurt but it’ll all be worth it!