RTTS Bournemouth 50k Race Report
This was supposed to be my A race of the fall season. It was supposed to be the day I reaped the rewards from the most ambitious training block I’d put together to-date. It was supposed to be fun. Well, that all went to pot when I gambled and ran VMLM with 48hrs notice (see VMLM Race Report for more details. This should also clear up why I hold no regret!).
The Lead Up
I came into this training block off the back of competing in the Mudcrew Black RAT 50 km. My body didn’t get much chance to recover because RTTS was quickly approaching. As a result, for the first four weeks my legs felt like lead weights.
I employed a number of methods to try and get them to turn a corner. I doubled up on the use of my trusty massage gun, and ran my easy runs so slowly that I couldn’t see any way that they could be contributing to my aerobic base. The final roll of the dice was to increase my protein intake up to and in excess of 2.5g/kg. I questioned whether I had plateaued in my athletic development. Working off perceived effort means I could see the paces on my speed work drop but I tried to cut myself some slack. Maybe this was as good as I could get.
Then one Sunday when completing the 50km paced work within my long run, my pace looked more respectable. My breathing felt easier. My legs had a little extra pop. The same happened during the next week’s speed session only this time I completed the speed work with a smile on my face, not the grimace I had become accustomed to. Was I getting back to my normal self?
But it didn’t stop there. I started throwing extra tempo work and race-pace work into each of my key sessions because…I could. I was recovering faster and feeling smoother than ever before. My development just seemed to take a leap forwards almost overnight. I think that I had been developing physical fitness over the preceding weeks but that the central, mental fatigue from the Black RAT had been looming over it like a dark cloud, subduing it. As the bad weather started to lift, the hard work became apparent all at once.
I opted to complete a long strava segment as part of my tune up however, when I crushed my expectations, the London marathon was all too tempting. I wanted that marathon time. I had wanted it all along I think. The RTTS was an excuse to not risk disappointment but I was sure I was in the form of my life.
Recovery from London was less than ideal and so mentally, and potentially physically, I wasn’t feeling quite right leading into RTTS. I had no idea how my body would respond to another demanding event so soon. I feared the worst and hoped for the best.
The Race
When it comes to competing, I often think back to a book I read that discussed the Kenyans philosophy of racing - they go out to win a race regardless of whether they are the hot favourite or the 10th seed. In other words, sometimes the promise of success is enough to not care about the risk of failure.
Going into this race I saw my options as this:
a) Run a conservative race trying to bank the fastest time I have in me today. It probably won’t be what I want given my recent significant deviation from ‘the plan’ but it’s what I have
b) Throw caution to the wind and just run, pure Kenyan-style!
The latter just seemed more fun and in keeping with the last race of the year!
I set off from Moors Valley Country park like an excited school kid. It was exhilarating to be running new trails. They had bridges, stiles, gates, underpasses, road crossings, a real variety to keep it interesting. And if someone had taken a spirit level to it they couldn’t have made it any flatter.
But my legs weren’t happy. Even by 10km my hips felt tight and my calves were starting to ache. I drank some more calories to try and cover it up. I focused on just moving forwards, attempting to distract myself from the discomfort. If you can dissociate yourself from the pain then it becomes more bearable. The process of external imagery helps with this but it was too late to engage in such activities. I was just going to have to deal with it.
My deterioration plateaued through 30km at which point you reach the tarmac section of the race. It extends around to Poole and along Bournemouth’s promenade to Hengistbury Head. I had hoped this would represent the start of my surge to the line. I couldn’t have been more wrong as my pace started to drop, form waiver and hope dissipate!
As you turn the corner onto Bournemouth’s mammoth sea front, it becomes apparent how much further is remaining. You can se Hengistbury Head in the distance. Early morning joggers, piers, cafes and a whole lot of tarmac separate you. It dawned on me just how much this is going to hurt!
I took the approach of focusing on a closer landmark, breaking the remaining distance into manageable (relatively speaking at this point) chunks. First the pier then the last checkpoint. Next was a cafe and so on. I was getting there, one heavy plod at a time.
Finally it was time to climb up onto the dunes. One last leg-sapping trudge across the sand drenched headland to the finish line and it was over. Just one last thing to do - fall to my knees and vomit. Job done.
I took the win in a respectable time of 03:11:something. A new 50km PB.
My Reaction
I didn’t expect to beat my goals that day. I wanted to hold my head up high saying I had tried my hardest. I think a lot of the pressure I pile on my shoulders before a race is about ‘will I do myself justice and fight to the finish?’. I don’t think I have ever been disappointed with a result when I can honestly say I gave it everything. This day was no different.
I think that I need to show the trails more respect. Whether they are flat and fast or technical and gnarly, they are never the same as road. There is no better place to practice running by perceived effort than on the trails. Switch off from your watch and tune into your body. It will tell you what you can and can’t do with a reasonable degree of accuracy.
Note to self: please DO NOT try to run two endurance events in close proximity again. It doesn’t feel good. Your body doesn’t like it
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