This was initially supposed to happen in 2020, as part of my ‘scenic half
marathon’ tour - weekends somewhere ‘nice’, a spot of sightseeing and a run on
the Sunday morning… that ‘c’ word got in the way and everything got kicked down
the road for a year. In the meantime, out of a mix of lockdown boredom and
mental ill-health, my running had kicked up a notch or two - a marathon (and the
associated training) was endured/overcome, so after the summer hols, I decided
to follow a fairly serious training programme to give this run a proper go.
Interval sessions, hill repeats, lots of long runs etc etc, in contrast to my
more usual languid approach of ‘maybe do a couple of longer runs’. So training
started to move in a purposeful manner. At the same time, I began to notice
nephew Josh posting some pretty fast and pretty long runs down in Cardiff, as a
recent convert to pavement bashing. I dropped him a line to asked if he fancied
entering a race some time and listed what I was up to, to which he replied (with
indecent haste) that he had entered Conwy then and there. Huzzah! Someone else
in the family running with me in a race. A first! Magic!!
The last time I ran against Josh, he was 5 years old and challenged me to a race
across my back garden - he was allowed to run facing forwards, whilst I had to
run backwards. Sorry to report that I channelled ‘Competitive Dad’ out of the
Fast Show and beat him, which made him cry. Looking at his Strava times, it
looked like revenge was going to be served very cold indeed some 26 years later.
So the day finally dawned, chilly and clear with a stiff northerly breeze. The
night before was the usual mix of struggling to sleep, wondering why I have such
a stupid hobby and pondering how badly Josh was going to hand my arse to me. The
compact walled centre of Conwy filled up with runners in the way a city centre
fills up prior to a football match… it’s always the friendliest of crowds, with
lots of random chatting, asking about vests (“Clapham in London or Clapham in
North Yorkshire?!”) and mutual support. The pretty little quayside in Conwy was
rammed ready for the start under the walls of the castle, and I happily managed
to bump into Josh, having made no firm arrangements to find him. I managed to
miss Clare from work, who was making her debut at the distance too on her home
patch, digging in to get round in sub 2:15 if she could.
Josh, meanwhile, had been aiming for a sub 1:45 until he ran 1:43 in training,
while I was tentatively aiming for around the same mark and seeing how my
‘cheaty’ shoes would affect things. As a boring aside, I ran in my Meltham vest
(complete with my ‘666’ number as part of a Robert Johnson style pact with the
devil/random number allocation - delete as preferred) and shorts with Under
Armour compression stuff beneath and Hoka Rocket X’s and a couple of Kendal Mint
Cake energy gels for mile 4 and 8. We started together with the 1.45 pacers. So
over the line and off.... At which point my watch went funny and decided to
display the time of day only. In hindsight, this was pretty good and I might
leave it like that - no endless thoughts of ‘I’m 2 seconds slower than I wanted
that mile at that means I’m blah blah blah’
We rapidly moved past the pacers, making a steady enough start. The route is
essential an ‘out and back’ one with a loop around the Great Orme at Llandudno
in the middle, complete with a stiff climb. After a couple of miles, Josh began
to pull out a steady lead ahead of me, remaining just in sight in his bright
yellow hat, but out of contact around a minute ahead. The first 4 miles were
pretty flat before we skirted the side of Llandudno, passing a samba band
banging out a rhythm and began the climb up the Orme. The bulk of the 300m of
climbing came in this 3 mile stretch of the race, with steady ups, flat
sections, corners turned and more ups, before the final corner to reveal the
road heading very steeply up. The wind was fully in our faces, just to make it
all a bit more difficult too. Once again, the support on the course was almost
overwhelming, both from the very frequent marshalls, who I mostly managed to
thank, and from large crowds of onlookers. As ever, my distinctive vest earned
me a fair few ‘Go on Meltham’s’ from other runners and the large crowd of
supporters from Sowerby Snails who had turned up on a bus. Clare reported that
she had seen both plenty of her old school friends and some signs urging her
onwards. It does make such a difference. At one point, I was running behind a
bloke with ‘Rob’ so was accompanied by endless cries of ‘Go on Rob’. Strangely,
these continued after I overtook him, and it took a while before I remembered my
name was printed on my race number!
I had settled into a familiar little group of runners, swapping places fairly
regularly - some better going up, some better going down… The most constant of
these was a lady from Penny Lane Striders, who exchanged places with me
regularly and had a distinctive pattern of breathing - ‘pant, pant, SQUEAK!’...
I could soon recognise when she was behind me. Josh, meanwhile, was just in
vision somewhere up the road, but well out of contact. Ah well. The views in
this section were fabulous - the air was gin clear, and turning the corner on
the Orme revealed Anglesey off to one side, Snowdonia ahead (the Carnedds, I
think…) and Conwy Castle and the finish some 5 miles ahead, sunshine glistening
off the estuary. There was now a very steep descent, which always favours us
lardier runners - gravity does the work, so I turned in a 7 minute mile here,
before we joined on to the ‘back section’ of the route for the final 4 miles
home. There were still some runners coming the other way, including a group
carrying sacks of coal. Just when you thought you were having a tough day… There
was one last steady climb by a golf course, followed by a drop down to a level
last couple of miles. Knees up. Form. Run. Dig in. The panting again appeared
behind me at this point - my compadre from Penny Lane. It was quite annoying, so
I sped up to try and shake her off. But couldn’t. The road had emptied out by
now, so I could pick a line over the tarmac - avoid the lines! - and as I weaved
looking for the smoothest surface, she followed, using me as a pacer. It was
kind of annoying, but I couldn’t shake her, no matter how hard I tried. The
extra impetus had another effect, though...
I kept catching glances of the yellow hat, and it seemed that I was beginning to
reel in Joshua David Robson. My mind started to wander - maybe we could finish
together? Maybe I could run over the finish line backwards? Actually, maybe I
should be ‘Competitive Dad’ again and beat him while I still can. He gradually
got closer, unaware of me coming, so I eased off 10 yards back for a little
while, then went for it and burst past, trying to create an instant, soul
destroying gap. Josh gave a little ‘ugh’ as I overtook him, and I expected him
to come blasting straight past again, so I just pushed on as hard as I could
with under a mile to go. The route then went up quite steeply to gain the bridge
back to Conwy where Kath was stood, bellowing that I was ahead of Josh and could
beat him… I was aware of that, thanks!
So all ahead flank, onto the bridge, over the evil little hump in the middle and
the fin… ah no, there’s two bridges. Over the second one, hearing footsteps,
carving past runners a plenty. Leggy lady in the blue top. Got her. Green shirt
bloke.. Past him. Etc etc. In my zeal to stay ahead of Josh, I eventually put 10
places between us. So over the finish, exhilaration checking the clock time of
1:41 something (I had ignored my watch throughout) and collapse. Then hugs with
the Penny Lane lady called Charlotte, who offered profuse thanks for the tow and
hugs with Josh. I’m surprised I beat him, and to be honest, it doesn’t matter in
the slightest. You are only ever racing yourself, and I had just posted my
fastest half time for six years. The nephew had enjoyed himself enormously and
made a really brilliant start to his road racing journey. His cold in the week
before had probably taken a couple of minutes out of him… but I doubt I’ll ever
get the better of him again. Another winter of running and he’s going to be
impossible to beat.
I was pretty chuffed with how it all went. It was my fastest time for a half
since January 2015, due to a mix of the training and the cheaty shoes. The shoes
definitely make a difference and reward any effort at running fast with a little
extra help. I’m suspecting sales in Cardiff are going to be increasing shortly
too! My legs ached hugely afterwards, though and I had some spasms in my arches
and calves post race - I guess that’s the downside of a lightweight and extra
springy shoe when attached to a rather chunky 56 year old. It is hard to compare
race performance - this one had over 300 metres of climb, while my other ‘fast’
ones were much flatter or downhill. So I guess this one rates as a pretty good
showing overall, if not the best. Anyway, who cares. It was beautiful, the sun
shone, the event was superbly organised by ‘Run Wales’ and I got to go to the
pub afterwards. We all want to go back and do it again... hopefully we can get
Dylan along too. Results Robba - 1:41:16 in 335th Joshie - 1:41:52 in 348th
Clare - 2:02:34 in 977th
