Great Birmingham 10k, 3rd May 2015

In the two weeks since marathon day I've run a grand total of 14 miles. I haven't got my diet back on track at all and have either been sleeping really heavily or had strange broken sleep. My ITBS hasn't been good (in spite of not giving me any problems for 26.2 miles) and I've added a tight left hamstring into the mix. I've also felt emotional at the best of times and then had some difficult family news this week which has left me reeling. Somehow though, after a decent last mile at Cannon Hill parkrun on Saturday I woke up feeling that there might be a possibility of doing something approaching my 10k PB (50:00) at the inaugural Morrisons Great Birmingham 10k.

I had found myself in the "fast paced club runners" section, which was really strange as actually I would have preferred to be in one of the music waves... I don't really know why I had put myself in there. As it was though, it was quite nice to be in the pen with some fellow Bournville Harriers and I met up with my Mom and Aunty (who was running in the Pink wave) before the start, which was over near Millennium Point.

I'd woken up to pouring rain but it wasn't cold at all and by the time we got to the start we had just the odd bit of drizzle. It was looking like perfect running conditions. The route has a familiar profile to the Birmingham Half Marathon, with a downhill start running out of town, then out along the Pershore Road to Edgbaston; but instead of carrying on to Bournville the route takes you round the Cricket Ground then back along the Pershore Road (great for looking out for fellow runners) and back into town following the same route as the half, including the tough hills and finishing on Broad Street.

I went off too quickly, wanting to maximise the downhill start and immediately regretted it as I started the second mile with stitch and feeling really hot. The sun came out and I couldn't decide whether to take off my cap and throw it away or leave it on (recent races have seen me lose various items of clothing... A trip to the charity shop might be in order if I continue to view my running wardrobe as disposable!) 

All of a sudden we were approaching the Cricket Ground where I could see (and hear) the Bournville supporters (many of whom were recovering from excellent runs in London the previous week). We were nearly halfway and I hadn't found a rhythm - I was struggling, but seeing them made me smile and I looked forward to looping back around. There was a water station and I had a quick sip and poured some water over my head. It was around this point that more and more people started passing me, including a number of my club mates. My spirits were lifted by the cheering squad again, but my pace was way off my intended 8 minute miles and we still had the tough climbs to come. 

I kind of just wanted it to end then but enjoyed looking out for other Harriers and exchanged a few words with other runners to pass the time. I reckoned I'd still come in under 55 minutes and thought about how pleased I would have been with that time a couple of years ago. I'm not sure how much the marathon was still in my legs but I found myself walking on the hills and felt really disappointed in myself. As we approached the underpass coming back towards Broad Street I began to feel a bit upset and focussed on my Mom who would be waiting for me. The support was good, but didn't seem to be as loud as for the Half Marathon, and I think the distance to the barrier on one side created too much space between supporters and runners (although presumably this had been done to enable the medical staff to get onto the course easily). With less than 200m to go I saw a lady on the ground, she looked to be in a lot of pain but she was conscious and was being attended to. It shook me a bit and it turned out to be the reason I missed my Mom - who was shouting from here but who I missed completely.

I crossed the line in 52:39 and took a goodie bag over to where a couple of my club mates were. Having given myself the excuse that there was no chance of a PB on that course two weeks after a marathon I heard that a fellow Manchester marathoner had indeed done just that, so I filed my excuses and just reflected that I hadn't really got the goods on the day. Maybe next time!

I had a hard time finding my Mom, who had my bag, my phone and my warm clothes. I'd begun wishing I'd put my bag on the baggage bus but there was a huge queue for that too and a bit of disorganisation. In the end I managed to find Mom in time to watch my Aunty finish in her usual gleeful style. We rounded off the day with a couple of drinks and photos with our medals.