The Stonor Park Maverick Half Marathon 21km from the point of view of James Whittington. A race report. (James is a strange fellow, much of the following is quite clearly untrue – Ed.)
Wednesday 2nd Dec
7:16pm
I’m happily settling into my winter hibernation, and haven’t exercised since the Walrus Tri. I’ve got a glass of wine in one hand, a slice of cake in the other, and a good book in another. Life is good.
7:17pm
My phone buzzes. I pick it up with my spare hand and see that George Dix has messaged. What could this be about? Is he going to send me another number? He keeps sending me numbers counting upwards. I don’t understand what it’s about. It’s not though. Instead it reads ‘you doing this race sat?’. Oh right. I guess I am.
Thursday 3rd & Friday 4th Dec
My taper comes easy since zero times anything is still zero. I’m feeling rather confident.
Saturday 5th Dec
It’s a cold Saturday morning at Stonor park, though the beautiful blue skies and wave of Walrus colours raise spirits. George Humphreys, Wetbeak, the casio brothers, Monkey, BizzleSmizzle and Amy, Roman, Rob France’s wife who was sent in place of him, Andy, Stef, Teo, Tom Fleming’s calves, George Dix, and Dan Thompson have all made it. They’re looking strong. Dan Thompson especially – he’s going to run a 5:30mins/km average pace apparently – ‘never above 6’ he says.
George Humphreys is quizzing me on my choice of anorak. Well I know how quickly the British weather changes. These fools apparently don’t.
Cordialities over, we get talking about the race. Most of us are booked in to start in a 45 minute time window. The pigs are to set off first, with Monkey, Dix and Roman coming next, and finally Wetbeak chasing us all down around halfway mark. George Dix gives me a final piece of advice:
‘you’ve never run more than 15k before, and this is hilly and muddy – basically make sure you’re never out of breath and you’ll be fine.’
Gracias sensei.
The Race
The race starts. Dan Thompson and I make a quick break 10 seconds before the other pigs but we’re quickly reeled in. After just a minute we’re in a large pack: me, Dan, the casio brothers, George Humphreys, BizzleSmizzle and some other people. We’re going faster than Dan’s 5:30 pace but I’m ok with that for now.
We encounter the first hill and a gap starts forming between me and the rest of the pack. Normally I don’t like gaps, but I’ve heard some good advice – don’t get out of breath – something these fools apparently don’t know. I let them push forwards safe in the knowledge I’ll enjoy gassing them later when they crash.
I go through a field and into a mini wooded area and I’m overtaken by someone – Monkey to be precise. Good, another one I’ll reel in. Dix follows suit shortly after. These guys can’t pace a race.
Up the second hill and my knee starts to hurt. The lateral hamstring tendon of biceps femoris for Casio 1 and Dan Thompson. I can’t quit on a Walrus event though, and especially after only 4km. Soldiering on, I’m passed by Wetbeak and Roman. Roman twice as he passed me then went for a wee, then passed me again. Aside from the knee, it’s all following my plan.
7km in I see my first walrus to reel in. It’s George Humphreys and he’s around 100m ahead. With him in my sights I run past a marshall who points their arm in one direction and then in another. The lunacy has gotten to the marshalls too. Fortunately I’m following George and slowly gaining on him. It’s up a steep hill so it takes a while to catch up.
‘Oh so you’ve dropped off have you?’
‘Yes, quite early on’ I reply thinking I’ll continue to catch the rest of them up.
‘Well I don’t blame you, running 21k is nuts’
I’m confused now. George explains that the last turning before the hill was the 11km vs 21km decision point. Bummer. I’m pretty keen to call it a day but I don’t want to look weak in front of Mr Walrus so I turn and head back. The marshall was sane after all and it’s dawning on me that everything I’m thinking makes no sense.
11km in and it’s all falling apart. My actual knee is hurting now and I’ve taken to walking uphill and slow jogging the rest. Runners keep streaming past me, surely wondering why I’m wearing an anorak in the bright blue skies. I’m not out of breath though so that’s still a positive.
I keep going. Dan’s 2hr estimated time of finishing has long slipped away. I’ll make 2:20 at least. A few km later and it’s 2:30. It’s painful but I’ve got to finish this, who wouldn’t finish after all?
Around 19km in I pass my first person. Not a walrus but I’m thrilled regardless. They look like they’re really struggling, but it’s war out here so I leave them there.
A field of turnips tells me it’s all about to end. As I come into the finishing straight I see the Walri ch/jeering me on and it’s a beautiful feeling to be reunited once more. Wetbeak has put in a characteristic stormer with Dix and Monkey not too far behind. Everyone else was around the 2hr mark. I’m looking forward to hanging out, chatting and generally debriefing. But since they have all been doing that for 45 minutes already and are cold, they want to go home. It’s a shame Rob isn’t putting on a brunch.
It’s all over then. 2:45 minutes for a trail half-marathon – it doesn’t feel great, but at least Strava gives me a pb gold medal.
