Race report: Watford Half Marathon 7 Feb 2010

I signed up to this over Christmas. I knew that my marathon training was going to be a lot of lonely miles on the roads, so I thought that running in a race with others might be good. Also, I'd get to train my race routines - packing my bag, pinning my number, hydration and fueling, and dealing with the pre-race jitters!

I was a good girl all weekend - no alcohol even though a friend gently offered me some red wine the evening before when we were hanging out. Early to bed, eating carbs to fill up my depots. I hadn't really run enough the weeks before, since I was ill for five days, and then struggling to get back to normal the next week. To "make up" for it I ran 8km on the Friday and 5 on the Saturday, and my legs were feeling tired. I had a sports massage on the Saturday, something I have been trying to get around to for a while because I am still dealing with some sciatica issues in my left thigh. It felt good, but I could still "feel" my legs Saturday evening. I was getting nervous too.

Into the bag: running shoes! Clothes to run in - pants, bra, top, long sleeved shirt, socks, panties. Towel, toiletries, my ipod with the nike thingie, two fruit bars for the run, wallet and all that stuff.

I got up at around 6.30 to got ready to leave, and decided I would change at the venue. I dressed in jeans and my normal coat, double-checked my bag with the running gear - maybe I should bring my running number and the directions and information on the race?! Maybe I should!

Off I go - it's cold today - and even on the bus from my stop a guy gets on, wearing sky blue track pants, he's doing some sort of exercise today, I think to myself. Surely enough, he gets off at the same stop as me, and as I walk through the train station I notice more and more people wearing running gear, walking the same way as me. At the platform there are people sitting on benches, that are surely going to the same race. I start thinking to myself that I should have changed at home - I'm not going to have time to get ready, oh no! I consider changing in the toilet on the train, but decide that that is just not going to happen!

The procession continues as we arrive into Watford, 10-20-60 people form a long snake walking towards the Colosseum where all is buzzing with runners of all ages and shapes and ethnicities. It feels good, and as I get changed I realise that I am fine for time. I pin my number to my top, and take a moment to take in the feeling in the big hall. People are chattering away, making the last preparations, and there is a definite sense of anticipation in the air. I need to use the toilet again, but the queue for the women's is MASSIVE, so about 15 minutes before race start I start moving towards the start (and the portaloos!). There's a pretty long queue here too, but it's moving. Will I have time to warm up a little more after the toilets? Not really, but I feel ok and do a little stretch against a tree (I like to think that I'm hugging a tree every time I stretch!) before joining the others in the start area.

We're off. I'm feeling good, getting carried in the crowds. The ladies and veteran men start off on their own, and as we join the men after a few hundred meters I'm feeling pretty good about my legs. It's pretty flat now, and people are jostling to find their spot in the crowd; after running along the edges for a while, it thins out and I settle into a rhythm. I select a couple of women running at my pace to be my "targets" - people I measure against and want to stick with during the race and run from in the end, if at all possible. It works really well for me to have them to think about during the long slog.

21km is a long way, and with a couple of hills that didn't catch my eye on the height profile of the race I had moments of "phew, now what?". Running through forest paths and along field lanes has a beauty I don't get on my normal runs. Through my increasingly tired eyes I appreciate the glorious cold of the morning.

I'm overtaken by a girl running fast (too fast?) up a hill - I stick to my pace, I know it'll bring me home. Eventually I pass her in the forest going up a hill, and smile to her, say "come on - keep it up!" and we share a moment of that painful running joy, but she is tired and falls back.

I'm doing well, overtaking a couple of the girls I set my targets on, but the one with the orange jersey is running with a friend, who keeps pushing her ahead.

I'm experimenting with energy supplements, gels, fruit bars and energy drinks along the route. Apart from a slight nausea from the liquid energy in my stomach it's good - every time I take a gel I get a boost to the legs within a minute or two. I save one for the very end - we're back in town and I'm feeling knackered. The blackcurrant fruit bar is making me feel sick and in the end I just have half, but it's enough to keep me going, moving. The orange jersey girl is tiring, I'm struggling but I want to stick with her. Her friend ups the tempo and forces her to keep going - I follow, but after a few minutes I can no more. They set off and I accept that she's going to finish ahead of me.

The last long stretch is dotted with people cheering us on, some have completed the run, others are there to encourage their friends and family. I'm so tired but try to stick to my pace as best I can, and when I touch the final 200m I let it rip - giving it a last sprint I overtake 8-10 guys and a couple of girls, I'm feeling the burn but I can do this!

I did it, and it felt good.