It’s been far too long since my last blog update, over a year in fact, but the reason for that is fairly straightforward in reason but hard to put into words as it leads down a fairly personal area of my life that I briefly spoke about on social media last summer but have since not had the confidence to talk about publicly. The reason I started this blog was to document my road to recovery having undergone hernia surgery in May 2017 and how I was able to go from that to successfully completing the Frankfurt marathon just five months later and again I find myself scribing a journal recovery from injury, but this time a mental health injury rather than a physical condition, a battle between my head and my heels if you will hence the title. 
Back in May of last year I posted what turned out to be a popular image on my Twitter profile celebrating the fact that I had completed twenty five years working on the railway, everything seemed good in the picture as I smiled for the camera in front of one of the Class 450 trains upon which I spend so many hours week in and week out. But all was not entirely well behind painted smile as clouds of negativity were growing and within five weeks I had a mental breakdown from which I am yet to fully get over, recovery is a subjective term however and I don’t doubt that I have the potential to put the last year behind me but I feel things will never truly be the same and it’s probably best that they are not anyway because then a full relapse will never be far away. What I would prefer is an acceptance of a new normal, but that is quite some way off for the time being. The reasons for the breakdown are manifold and some of it goes back a very long way to a time when you were considered posh if you had a colour television, those reasons are not something I want to bring into public discussion as they involve people who are now unable to defend themselves on such an open platform and that was not really the point of this literary episode in any case. What I am prepared to talk about is how this psychological disorder manifested itself through the summer of 2019 and the following months. Firstly I must credit my wife who was the first to diagnose my signs of depression and also for her insistence (against my will at the time) on seeking professional help via my GP. Up until late June 2018 I had been running quite consistently though not to any degree of self satisfaction, I was running over a hundred miles each month at a fairly swift pace when I wanted to and I kind of hit a peak in late May when I ran the twenty one miles from Petersfield to Portsmouth and had the energy to do more but opted to stop as a precaution against injury. That turned out to be the last long run of the year and my mileage really eased up in June and then stopped altogether a month later. It seemed that the self induced target of running a thousand miles in 2019 had led me to stop enjoying what I was doing and pressurised
me into completing miles that I just wasn’t happy with, I was falling out of love with running quite quickly and then chose to follow some advice I had seen online and that was to become a bigger factor during the autumn which was to stop doing doing things you don’t need to do if you don’t enjoy it. The rest of last summer was incredibly tough, I was off work for several weeks and without the structure and routine that my career gives me it became easy to lose my ability to do anything. Some days I would struggle to get up at all and then spend the remains of the day literally doing nothing as the darkness of depression became all consuming. Eventually I found something to focus on and so I started to scan some of the thousands of film negatives that had been stored for up to twenty years patiently waiting for their turn in my photo scanner, it really wasn’t much but it was a reason to get up and do things and also to once again be able to see pictures I had taken when I was a much younger man. As August drew on I was also admitted as a patient with the local NHS Mental Health service and made a date for the start of a course of counselling and further discussions with my employer’s occupational health team with a view to returning to work during the autumn. Despite being a very difficult month August ended in a most spectacular fashion as my wife and I sailed away from Southampton on a week long cruise to Norway.
The cruise was a fantastic experience, not my first cruise but the first for my wife, and on reflection it was possibly the best holiday I’ve ever had. It had been booked a number of months earlier but turned out to be the perfect tonic as it gave me the chance to completely unwind in the
isolation of a beautiful ship at sea and hundreds of miles from land, no internet and social media distractions just me and my wife cocooned together either at sea or enjoying the sights of the Norwegian Fjords. As if that wasn’t enough we spent week two of my annual leave being whisked off to Paris on Eurostar and enjoying a very warm and relaxing few days just pottering around wherever we wished and made special by a wonderful luncheon river cruise for our wedding anniversary. Those two weeks made such a difference and a couple of weeks later I was ready to return to work albeit in a limited capacity initially. In early October I started my counselling course with six other people, by week two those six had become four but the five of us stayed to the end and it was the comfort of knowing that we were all going through slightly varying degrees of the same thing that really helped me just as much as the counselling itself. Our group became something of a safe space for the five of us to feel we could be open without being judged meanwhile the course itself gave us valuable knowledge to manage our symptoms and in the long run get back to a new kind of normal.
After a couple of months of being back at work I was feeling quite positive once again and I was enjoying not only the job itself but also seeing my colleagues again on a regular basis. By this point I hadn’t run any distance at all since the middle of July but by the start of December I felt good enough to make a start at regaining some fitness, not least because I was a stone heavier than I had been six months previously. Unfortunately I only managed a couple of short runs before I had a secondary mini breakdown brought on by the approach of Christmas and some specific work related stress. Although my mental state improved during January 
I didn’t start running again until February by which time I had added a little more weight courtesy of the excess of Christmas and I subsequently found it very hard going, I still do now but the excess weight is slowly coming off and I hope that once I’m in better shape in terms of weight, muscle strength and cardio fitness I will once again start enjoying it again. Endorphins seem short in supply lately and I’d go so far as to say that I haven’t properly enjoyed a decent run since that twenty one mile leg stretcher through the South Downs last May, but I still yearn for it and unlike last summer I’m confident it will come in due course once I’m in better shape and a little more confident.
While my physical health is on a very gradual upward curve my mental health remains something of a concern, I feel far better than I did last summer but various issues have prevented me from getting on with the second stage of my recuperation which would require a more bespoke personal approach to deal with what may be more of a personality disorder that I have self managed for almost half a century-often at the expense of others. In addition one of the primary ways I found of managing the darker days of the last four months has been to focus on the approach of spring with it’s warmer weather, lighter evenings and opportunities for weekends away and days out and so on, but here we are at Easter with lovely warm weather and we’re all stuck indoors, barred from immersing ourselves in the majesty of this most creative of seasons. The current coronavirus restrictions are not easy to live with and even though I have the subtle luxury of being able to go to work it’s still a difficult time, not least because I’m in a small flat with no garden. I do at least have a decent view from my flat and have been able to monitor the daily movement and shunting around of cruise ships coming in and out of Southampton as they bide their time until they carry passengers once again, including the yet to be completed Iona which we are supposed to be boarding in July although the chance of that happening is slim to non existent, the back up cruise to celebrate my fiftieth birthday in October now seems unlikely too so we’ll probably not have a holiday this year, disappointing of course but in no way comparable the personal loss being felt by many thousands of families as this deadly virus wreaks its havoc upon the world. The last nine months have been challenging to say the least and I am still nowhere near where I want to be mentally or physically, but I can be thankful that I’m still employed and still in reasonably good physical health-extra weight notwithstanding!
I have several local parkruns locally, Lakeside in Cosham, Havant, and Lee On Solent are a some of the options and you’d think I would pick one of those but I’m never one to take the easy option (if I was I wouldn’t be running cold, wet lonely long runs when marathon training I guess) and I would almost certainly have got one in the bag in Sydney when I was there in 2016 but I had the small matter of a marathon to complete the following day! So this years holiday presented another chance to finally become a parkrun tourist during a ten day stay in Singapore. 
Singapore has three parkruns and two were within fairly easy reach of the hotel but I opted for the East Coast as it seemed the easiest to get to. It’s a 7.30am start so I was up at six which wasn’t too much of a struggle as we had only got off the plane the previous afternoon and jet lag was still in effect! I headed off to Esplanade metro station and rode a couple of stops to Mountbatten where I had to get my bearings upon emerging from the subterranean tracks into the sunshine before navigating myself the mile to the start line which I managed reasonably well for a newcomer to those parts. The event itself is much as you’d expect and there was a field of around 100 people ready to get going including lots of other tourists making it the most cosmopolitan parkrun I’ve ever done, lots of Australians, the odd Kiwi, plenty of locals and not an insignificant number of UK runners including representatives from Sheffield and Belfast who were the furthest travellers.
All along the course was there were lots of other runners both solo and in groups plus several pilates and yoga classes enjoying the morning air. Heading back to the start I picked up the pace for the final mile to make it a nice progressive run and never strenuous enough to give my garmin worries about my heart rate and as much I enjoyed getting my lowest numbered finishing token ever it has to be taken in the context of a much smaller field than at Southsea! By now it was around 8am and time to head back along the tree lined streets to the subway and a rendezvous with the hotel where my wife was just getting up and so after a quick shower we were off to breakfast-fully deserved for me I thought!
I got round the first corner without incident and soon approached the first of several sets of traffic lights which racing cars don’t have to worry about but fortunately I had good fortune with nearly all traffic light controlled pedestrian crossings. I was soon passing the hotel and then took the 90 degree corner into Nicoll Highway before another sharp turn to take me towards a nice straight section past the art museum. It felt very strange to be running on the streets I had seen being raced on just two weeks earlier but the heat was really bad along that straight section with almost no shade so I had to slow down and take on some water before another left turn taking me towards and then across the Anderson Bridge, past the Fullerton Hotel and past Merlion Park which was packed with tourists like myself as it always is. After crossing the river once again it was a right turn taking me past the hotel a second time and then into a short section in front of a permanent grandstand after which the circuit passes under the stand at spot where a number of racing drivers have come to grief over the years but it’s closed off to the public so I had to make my way up some steps to rejoin the circuit. Ahead of me I could see the Singapore Flyer which is their equivalent of the London Eye (and very nice it is too) and is a sign that the end is near, another little turn to the right brings the Gardens By The Bay into view which is an eco park of sorts and looks nice from a distance although our experience of it was somewhat disappointing. 
Now it was time to do a Mo Farah and kick for home as I rounded the final corner and headed for the finish line. In my mind I sprinted for the line but in reality I fear it was something a little more sedate, it had been one of the toughest 5k runs I’ve ever done thanks to the heat but I did manage to pick up the pace fairly considerably for the final 100 yards or so which is probably attributed to the magic of passing over the DRS line on the racetrack! For the record the scores on the doors are: Lewis Hamilton 1m 27s, me 27m 44s!
a victory lap following months of training in all weathers, often solo, often at the crack of dawn and so my mileage has been increasing bit by bit until today where I hit the magic twenty mile barrier which most training plans recommend as your longest run as you ramp up the mileage.
Havant and Hayling Island which kind of spurred me on to today’s long run. Whilst the closure of so many rail routes in the 1960s and 1970s was in some respects short sighted it has at least left us a legacy of hundreds of miles of trails around the country where nature has reclaimed the old track beds which are perfectly suited to running given their gentle gradients and generally smooth surfaces. Not far from me is the Meon Valley Trail which last carried trains in 1962 and has been a target of mine for quite some time, largely as it’s a new route for me but also the fact that it’s a former railway line makes it that bit more appealing to me personally.
There’s no major roads nearby so the miles pass by with the peaceful and relaxing soundtrack of the countryside, on a weekday like today I passed the odd dog walker, rambler or horse rider every few minutes and before I knew it I was arriving at Droxford where the trail deviates slightly as the former station is now a private residence although a portion of the Fareham bound platform is clearly visible and intact. After Droxford I continued for another half a mile or so before turning back and heading west back to Wickham. The return trip is entirely downhill although 
as you would expect from a former railway the gradient is barely noticeable. Once I was back in Wickham it was time to tackle the hill to get me out of the village then follow the main road towards the M27 bridge after which I successfully made it up the very steep ‘North Hill’ in Fareham, nobody likes a steep hill nineteen miles into a run but I refused to resort to walking! And then I was back in Fareham with just enough time to get some stretches in before getting the train home again. What really impressed me was not only making the final mile by far the quickest of them all but also realising that each five mile section had been progressively faster despite not worrying about time at any point except the final mile.
before repeating the cycle again. It left me with cabin fever and a frustration that I wasn’t really living the life I expected as I usually get out and about quite a bit on my days off and keep as active as possible (unsurprising for a runner!). Finally at the end of June I met my NHS physio for the first time and he diagnosed the issue fairly swiftly before uttering the words I’d longed to hear, ‘I want you to get back to your normal running routine’. I was absolutely overjoyed to hear that as at my lowest ebb I had thought this was the end of my running days or I was at least looking at months off. It turns out that the injury was caused by a sudden lack of running, which is frustrating to say the least, I had initially stopped running for around a month following some tightness in the area where I had hernia surgery last year but the knee pain developed soon afterwards and I opted to keep resting (to little avail) as described earlier. So here we are three weeks into my recovery and things are going good, I’m keeping up with the exercises I’ve been given to strengthen my glutes although I should be doing them anyway regardless of the injury and I’ve got out for eleven runs so far with a total mileage of just over fifty miles and it just had to be that my recuperation has coincided with a period of renovation at my local gym plus the longest 
heatwave since 1995, nevertheless I’m determined to get out there and follow the orders of my physio while at the same time staying hydrated and just concentrating on building distance and not worrying about times and pace etc which will of course come in the fullness of time. Having said that due to my work pattern at the moment my runs are generally early-mid afternoon when the sun is at it’s hottest but last week a restless night resulted in heading out at 4.30 am for a wonderful fresh sunrise run along the coast. Today I hit nine miles for the first time which means I might just book a place at my local big race in October, the ten mile Great South Run, we shall see however as I’m really not interested in giving myself any targets until my next physio appointment in two weeks. 
For now my knee is definitely improving but it’s by no means fixed yet so I’ve still got another month probably of slowly getting back to my previous regime and hopefully at least some of that will be in slightly more comfortable temperatures! It’s definitely been a very challenging first half of 2018 and it has reminded me again of the close link between my running and my mental health, there have been some very dark days where I thought I’d never run again and I was past my best but I now look forward in the knowledge that the best is yet to come provided I can be patient, build up slowly and remember to stretch those glutes etc!
ry 1st I got back out on the roads with a short four mile run in rather atrocious wind and rain along the sea front and managed to get up to half marathon distance by the end of the month and on the basis of that I made a late entry to the Portsmouth Coastal Half Marathon which I completed in a course PB of 2.02.
So, as usual, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry and following on from a hugely enjoyable and not particularly demanding pounding of the streets around the Main River I was left not really knowing how to train for the short interval between races and ended up just doing a few short runs plus a couple of ten milers. The positivity I imbibed in Germany, the low key training and a complete failure to really consider how hard trail races are all united to form an unholy trinity that would only lead to disappointment as I got this event quite wrong. 
So what did I do to make it so fallacious? Firstly I failed to train properly, I’ve not done any trail running since dipping my toe in the water back in the hazy days of summer and my strategy for the day was to get a marathon done in under five hours which I can say I was successful in as my garmin measured the 26.2 miles at four hours and fifty eight minutes, but I’d given almost everything to realise that objective. Trail running is supposed to be about concentrating less on time and more on the journey and I’d totally lost sight of that, I am still essentially a road runner by nature and the nature of being that beast is that I do always set out in every event with a time in mind, particularly in marathons where pacing yourself is important. I should’ve forgotten about the time and just experienced breathing in that fresh air, looking at the sheep and cows we passed along the way and just admired the beauty of nature in the beautiful crisp winter sunshine.
Two miles in and the one mile slog up the long hill began, there were people walking and my mind drifted to the old adage about walking up hills on trails in order to conserve your energy, but I knew better of course. To some degree of credit it was only on the final two laps that I walked sections of that hill, nevertheless in retrospect it defeated me and I should’ve paid heed to the sayings of better people than me. My training was rubbish, decent mileage in August and early September then an injury pause before only doing three runs in October but covering fifty eight miles in doing so, but there’s no manual or training plan for two marathons so close together so I just stuck to easy stuff which left me ill prepared for this race, and seeing as it was such an underwhelming basis for mediocrity I’m doing it again with the next marathon booked in for December 17th. The final part of the trinity is Frankfurt, what an absolute blast that race was, and it took so much less out of me than I was expecting, instead of digging deep in the hurt locker while toiling through miles twenty to twenty three I found myself running on air and enjoying every one of the one point six million inches of the race distance, naturally this left me with a very false pretense of confidence as I thought to myself ‘how much harder can it be to run a trail marathon?’ Well the truth is that it can be very hard, and the truth hurts. Two days on and my legs are still not entirely on speaking terms with my brain after what I forced them to do on Sunday, but the calves and hamstrings will soon be healed and as good as new, however this is a reality check, marathons are not easy and should not be underestimated, trail marathons are even harder and I’d love to do another one someday but that day is a very long way off at the moment. I need to get the next marathon out of the way and then let my body get back to running short distances where my numerical fascination can be satisfied by more speed work and ‘beating the clock’. I love marathons but I need to get back to basics and having that fear of attempting a real challenge, my last two events haven’t given me that fear and maybe I got lucky in Germany but Staunton Country Park was like a slap in the face, I lost respect for the distance and I need to get it back. 
Putting aside my personal issues (entirely of my own making) the event itself was great, it was a small field of around 150 people and the undulating course consisted of 4.6 mile circuits with one loop being the target to get your medal but for the more ambitious a six hour time limit was in place. I used the mile and a half from the railway station as a warm up and post run warm down despite the bitter cold during the hours of long shadows. A quick race briefing was given and we were off on time at 9.30am, as time drew on the number of runners thinned out and when I finished at just after 3pm there were only seventeen runners still out on the course. I duly collected a wristband to signify the completion of each lap 
immediately followed by a visit to the feeding station which was well stocked throughout the day, on completing lap number six it was time to ring the bell to semaphore to the organisers what my legs had long been asking for and that I was done-although I wouldn’t have had the time to complete another lap anyhow! A great little medal was provided, and I even got the ‘marathon’ badge to go with it and a very tasty gingerbread man was provided in the goody bag! The event was called ‘Festive Frolic’ and was organised by ‘On The Whistle’ events who do a few small races around the South Downs area which all seem to go down well, hopefully I’ll be back on another one of their routes soon-but not a trail marathon I don’t think! Next month’s coastal odysee is largely on tarmac and what remains is along the old railway line to Hayling Island over which I’ve run many long training runs in the past so it will at least be predictable, I just need to train my brain better at managing my expectations!
of decent running that didn’t result in some form of malady. There have been highlights of course, notably conquering that massive hill in the early summer heat of Benidorm in May which was a triumphant moment, and two weeks after Frankfurt I still don’t know quite how I managed to navigate 26.2 miles with so much ease and enjoyment. I have been fighting since February 2016 not so much a battle against injuries but more of a war against my own mind and its sense false of invincibility. Following the Portsmouth ultra in December 2015 (50km) I was at the peak of my fitness and ability but my brain opted to continue at that plateau rather than ease off for a few months and January saw me focus on increasing my pace a little with the intention of aiming for my first sub four hour marathon at Milton Keynes in May. Honestly it was never a workable prospect and although I did manage a twenty mile run in a touch over three hours it was not long before the inevitable happened. After doing eighty four miles in a fortnight at the start of February I felt some pain in my upper leg and I hobbled around the Portsmouth Coastal Half in around 2h30 including a very difficult sixteen minute mile in the middle. I rested for just under a month and made an attempt at getting back on the road in April but faltered after a mere three miles so I then had to make a decision. I was already prepared to miss Milton Keynes but I had a looming date with
Sydney marathon in September that I had already booked including flights and hotels for both me and my wife, I was desperate to be able to do that race as it would probably be my only chance to do a marathon in Australia, not only that but it was a first chance for my sister (now an Australian citizen) to see me race. So I travelled to Milton Keynes and started the marathon and knew I probably wouldn’t finish it but then once I got started I just couldn’t stop, I have a great deal of determination to complete things once I’ve started them and the idea of failing to finish wasn’t something I was prepared to tolerate. Despite a very difficult final ten miles I did it but at some cost. My already fragile body was wrecked and it was a fortnight before I could walk again without a limp of some sort and my GP kindly referred me to a very nice physio who diagnosed a strained adductor and finally got me the massages and stretches I needed to start seeing me right. It all worked wonders and I completed Sydney in 4h52 without having to walk any of it, I kept up some mid level training for a month to 
see me through a couple of short local races but then realised I wasn’t as healed as I thought I was and so the racing shoes were hung up for a couple of months once more before finally seeing some action for the Christmas Eve Southsea Parkrun followed by a very slow and steady Christmas Day Parkrun the next morning. I got back into training at what I thought to be a slow and steady pace but needless to say once again my brain was running faster than what my body was quite ready for and despite putting in a slow but nevertheless course personal best at the Coastal Half marathon which, incidentally, is clearly a béte noir for me as it consistently causes me problems and I’ve never run it in anything less than a quarter of an hour slower than my half marathon pb, but symptoms of injury soon reappeared as I had simply gone too far too soon. So that was another six weeks of resting which meant missing the local St Patrick’s 10k and also the Reading Half meaning I had my first ‘DNS’ races. By late April I was ready to try again but there was no point in rushing to try and hit any kind of target as I had surgery looming at the end of May so I just went out slow and steady and enjoyed a few bonus runs with no sort of pressure, this included that marvellous ascent of Cruz Benidorm which had been a target of mine since I first visited that Iberian Blackpool almost a decade ago.
Things changed in 2014 when I took up running and I finally put my name down to join the crowds on the start line although it wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that I realised it was a 10 mile race and not a 10k event much to my horror which made the challenge even greater and I duly completed my first ever race on October 26th 2014 in 1h37, and what a feeling it was to get over that finish line! I repeated my endeavour in 2015 with a quicker time but had to sit it out last year as I was injured leaving me to be a very frustrated spectator. This is event is usually the first to go on the calendar each year and this year was no different although it was a bit of a gamble when I booked it back in April as I knew I had surgery in May and several weeks of recuperation to follow, but I was back in training by August and everything was progressing well until I picked up a hip injury in September which left me having to stop all training except for an absolutely necessary pre marathon long run in early October. So I had no idea how the race would go for me as I’d not trained as I would’ve liked although I was more concerned about how the hip would react given that I had a marathon just a week after this race. The day prior to the Great South Run had been very stormy and the junior races had been cancelled as a result, 
but the Sunday dawned crisp and clear despite a gusty wind which would prove to make the latter stages of the race difficult for many, but the cool temperature was just an excuse to get warmed up properly which I had the ability to do by walk/running the one mile from home to the start line passing the water station being set up as I left home. As with 2015 I was in the orange wave which meant I was starting just behind the fast club runners, although in the event I was quite some way behind them as the start waves are huge and it took me four minutes to actually get over the line. This year was the first time I recall seeing pacers at this event so I decided to start with the 1.30 pacer and see how things panned out however that plan didn’t even last the first mile,
one hour thirty would mean pacing at nine minutes per mile but I got through mile one in 8.10, the reason for this will become evident shortly. I spend around ninety per cent of my training runs on the streets of Portsmouth so it feels extra special to me to be able to run unhindered on the streets which are so familiar to me and after passing the cathedral and then the shiny new bus interchange we headed into the exclusive part of the course through the navy base which at all other times is completely off limits to the public, this included a fairly close up view of the enormous new aircraft carrier plus a few smaller patrol vessels etc. Then we were back on the streets again and I passed the 5k mark in just over twenty five minutes before heading to the dual carriageway and a much needed water station. Then comes the only hill on the whole course although it can barely be described as a hill as it’s only around fifteen feet of elevation! 
Then comes a quick u turn to go back down the hill and this is where I needed the swift pace of those early miles as I stopped to greet my wife, niece and nephew and take on an energy drink before they raced me to the finish line with their one mile walk hopefully being quicker than my five and a half mile run. As I rejoined the race I had a quick look but couldn’t see if the 1.30 pacer had caught up with me while I was stationary however the short rest meant that the next mile was my fastest of the course and by the time I got to six miles I sensed that a course pb was well within range so I kept up the fast pace for another mile fully expecting its effect to be negated over the final section along the seafront with the strong wind in my face but in the event although the wind slowed me down a little bit it was nowhere near as bad as I had feared, in fact it wasn’t much different to a normal day of training as that turn in Eastney is part of a standard 10k circuit that I do two or three times a month. 
The hoped for finish line sprint wasn’t possible as I simply didn’t have the energy but what I did have was a new ten mile pb by just over a minute and a course record by three minutes, an incredible result given the build up to the race, and the family had made it to the finish line before me! So I’m now down to 1.23.08 for a ten mile pb which means that with a bit of work getting under eighty minutes might not be far off although it’s just a shame that ten mile races are so few and far between. This year we finally got a tech T shirt in the goodie bag rather than the cotton ones in previous years, also included was the usual water and energy bars, vouchers for this that and the other plus a medal of course. Crowd support for the Great South Run is better than any other race I’ve done and the views along the seafront are not bad either, of course I’ll be back to do it again next year if I can stay injury free and on that subject the hip injury was mostly trouble free during the race and felt back to normal within a couple of days, which is just as well as I had a marathon to get around only a week later-but more on that in my next post!
Primarily this blog entry is about the sheer joy of actually being able to race again, and for only the second time this year! Previously I did the Portsmouth Coastal Half Marathon in February followed by a double ‘did not start’ at the local St Patrick’s 10k and Reading Half Marathon in March so after many months of waiting I was eager to get back in to the groove of running within a large group and hearing the constant dull tone of hundreds of running shoes impacting the tarmac around me. No less than ten of the twenty three race medals that I’ve earned so far have come in the month of October including a rather incredible five in October 2015 alone and with two more medals available this moth that ratio can only increase! My local race organiser puts on a double at the start of October with 10k and eight mile options, I did the 10k last year but returned to my preference of the eight mile distance for this year’s event but I was somewhat flummoxed as to how to approach the race itself as two weeks previously I had made the foolhardy error of booking a race without scrutinising my race diary, the result of which meant that the eight mile race coincided with the scheduled last long run of marathon training for Frankfurt. 
Fortunately I woke early at around 6am and diverted myself away from the attraction of the Japanese Formula One Grand Prix (recorded for viewing later) otherwise my plans would’ve been ruined and stuck to my plan which was eight or nine pre race miles, eight miles on the sea front with my fellow competitors followed by a three or four mile run home all of which meant some fairly precise timing and mental route planning so that I arrived at the start line no more than five minutes before the gun went off. So at a fairly precise quarter past eight I left the house and made a start, I imagine I probably looked a little forlorn among the usual Sunday runners as I was not only running alone but my running bib was already in place across my chest and resolutely held in place by magnets! As with most city runners I know my local distances and had a fairly good idea of where I needed to run to get nine miles in and in the event I only came up just under half a mile short as the the last loop that I wanted to do would’ve left me almost sprinting the final mile and arriving at the start line completely exhausted, as it was I arrived with three minutes to spare and having been able to gently trot the last mile. As with most races without starting pens my initial position was right at the back which is my preference as it means I spend the race overtaking people rather than being 
overtaken and from a psychological perspective I find this method to be a great benefit, it also offers up far more opportunities to target a particular runner in front then catch them up and move past them and onto the next person which I find is more motivating and leaves me less inclined to fading and letting the pace get away from me. Almost at the 5k mark just past Southsea Castle was where the 10k runners peeled off for their return to the finish line while us eight milers continued west back on to the promenade, past the hovercraft, through the funfair and up to the point where Nelson himself once stood as he left England for the Battle Of Trafalgar in 1805. By the time I started retracing my steps back to the finish line I was already starting to feel the pace and the twelve miles already in my legs but I still had enough strength to keep to my target times and beat my previous course best with a time of 1.11.09. In retrospect a more conservative pace might have been a more enlightened plan but had it just been a stand alone eight mile race I would probably have made it in 1.08 which would’ve been satisfying as that’s the time that one of my managers from work did it in! 
So now I had about eight or nine minutes of rest while I collected my medal (another great one as always from 
Suburban Jogger 