Running in the 80’s

Thinking about the Almondbury 10k in 1989 got me taking a nostalgic trip through my memories of running in the 1980’s… I used to run ‘on and off’ from around the age of 18, in a fairly haphazard fashion, but as the decade wore on, I started to do it more consistently, and by 1989 I must have been running about 80 miles a week. Some things have really changed since then, and other haven’t….

1. Shoes fit properly now…

Thinking back, the equipment was absolutely rubbish – my first pair of ‘proper’ running shoes were grey ‘Hi Tech’ ones acquired in 1984 for the massive sum of 34 quid.  As well as running in them, they would also go to the pub, in the sea, get slopped in beer and worse... Not terribly clever in retrospect!

These were succeeded by some Reeboks,

…these absolutely sucked, they looked quite nice but just didn’t suit my running style.

Then I acquired my all time favourites, Nike Air Windrunners that I wore out in less than a year, and instantly upped my speed by some 30 seconds per mile, then followed by another pair of the same that weren't as good. The design seemed to have changed in subtly annoying way. I kept hoping that they would reintroduce the old version and I could buy 15 pairs.

I suppose the point is that I just went to a sports shop, asked for a size 8 pair of running shoes and coughed up the money. Sometimes they fitted brilliantly and suited your running style, sometimes they didn’t. But it was all a bit random…

 Obviously, it is a more involved task these days, with a trip to the shop featuring a run on the treadmill whilst having your lower leg filmed to assess how your foot is striking and accordingly if you need stability, neutral or barefoot type shoes. It is quite interesting to watch your lower leg running in slow motion – it looks terribly painful, as though your foot is about to fall off and your leg snap. The strain that your legs seem to be under in slow motion is just plain bizarre to look at.

The implausibly skinny and athletic chap who works in every running shop then disappears off into the back room and reappears with a huge assortment of the ‘right’ sort of shoes (currently neutral, trying to strike nice & flat since reading ‘Running with the Kenyans’) which you try on for about 20 minutes, before settling on your current make, because they feel the same… so another pair of Sauconys, another hundred odd quid!

Dewsbury 10k  2/02/2014

I felt as bad as I looked!

I decided to enter this immediately after running in the Abbey Dash in November, as it was described as ‘flat’ and ‘having PB potential’. While the former is undoubtedly true, the latter is rather more open to question – my PB is resolutely stuck at 42.30 from the 1989 Almondbury 10, when I was running 6 times a week and had recently returned from a holiday at altitude in  Nepal. Even with that kind of preparation, I still managed to make a complete hash of it, missing the start with mate Mark ‘because the bus was late’ and setting off in pursuit of the field without a warm up at a blistering pace – I remember going through the first mile marker (old fashioned 10k in Imperial!) in 5.15 minutes, then slowing slightly to just below 6 for the next mile, at which point the route slanted uphill I we caught up with the first two runners from the official start, who were dressed as a pantomime horse… The effort got to me and I had to stop by the side of the road, and the pantomime horse overtook me. I did manage to get it back together and finish in what I regarded as a slightly embarrassing time to 42.30, which I guess is destined to remain my PB for evermore, unless my 48 year old self suddenly becomes rocket powered.

Anyway, I digress (as per usual…). I ran the Abbey Dash in 46 minutes odd, and was entertaining vague hopes of pushing  my time just under 45 minutes this time out. The run up to a race seems to be one where I start to feel slightly ill (the Abbey Dash was the same…) & listless, with endless scrutiny of the weather forecast, imagined colds starting and poor sleep. Saturday night was blowing a gale to the extent that I was woken up in the middle of the night, but Sunday dawned bright, sunny and not too blowy, with a chill in the air and the overnight rain glistening on the road. So about as good as you could ask for on the first Sunday in February…

So the usual routine – synthetic clothing on, race number affixed, variety of energy potions consumed (probably for psychological reasons as much as for needing the fuel) and upbeat music in the car en route to Dewsbury.

Parking turned out to be dead easy, with a giant car park (complete with the grottiest Portaloo in the civilised world) adjacent to the start. There was the usual milling around & stretching, mixed with chatting to random other runners. It was a really friendly crowd, and I chatted to a bunch of venerable ladies from Wetherby, where I was born, who encouraged me to run their 10k in August… It seemed a much more ‘runner’ crowd than the Abbey Dash, which is a giant charity jamboree with more than 10,000 runners – inspiring to see the road totally filled in both directions with so many runners, but also a hazard as you are constantly impeded by slow-coaches starting too far forward in the field.

Anyway, the event director did a fabulous tribute to the late, great Norman Collier with his malfunctioning loud hailer, then we were off, on a flat out and back course, rather like the Abbey Dash, but with Poundland in Batley as the turning point, instead of Kirkstall Abbey. Hey ho. It isn’t the most scenic run, but it is very well organised , with good marshalls & a smattering of locals, notably one house blaring the Village People out of their window & encouraging the runners to do ‘YMCA’!

As for the run, the less said the better. I had changed my Garmin watch onto metric and was looking to run each km in around 4.30, and got off to a faster start than this, before dropping off a little approaching the half way turn. As per usual, the dilemma between being too cold at the start or too warm in the race worked out wrongly, as I overheated in a thermal top and gloves… I could at least take off the gloves & unzip the top fully.

Anyway, the turn for home took us into a slight headwind and the sun shining off the road surface, so I was squinting too much to appreciate the scenery, though I doubt there is any to see! I recited a rather pathetic mantra to myself (‘pain is temporary, disappointment is permanent’ – WTF? It’s the sort of think Gareth Cheeseman would say. Subconscious, you are a complete arse sometimes) & kept running as hard as I could.  A quick look at the watch at the 8k marker seemed to show that I was on course, then it was just a case of running as hard as I could. Keep the knees up. Strike feet properly. Forefoot not heel. ‘Pain is temp… You’re a TIGER! GRR!’

Round the sharp corner, run hard for the finish and stop the watch… 44 YES!... 17 J Unbelievable.

Filter through the finish funnel, collect water & a rather nice orange t-shirt, then time for an emergency sit down, followed by a light stretch.

I was chuffed as anything to get under 45 minutes, which was a target I was kind of aspiring to, rather than thinking I would actively push through, and now I’m thinking… hmmm… maybe I can really get my act together and have a good crack at beating my 23 year old self. That would be something…

Meanwhile, one of the lady veterans I talked to from Wetherby went round in 38 minutes… Respect.

And just to prove I did it, here's the GPS track....