A fairly standard Manchester morning. Leaden skies, drizzle turning to rain turning to drizzle. A little cool. Very light wind. Masses of people everywhere.
Up at 7am. Well, 7.10am. Tummy still full of Lahra’s home-made macaroni cheese, done specially for me. Kit on. I’m wearing my favourite shorts and thin, long-sleeved top, my Salmon hydration vest and the charity vest which literally arrived yesterday. Long compression socks (needed) and my faster, Brooks Launch 6s.
Remember the anti-chafe plasters. Forgotten the anti-chafe creams. (This becomes important later...)
Banana, slurp of water, out the door just after 7:30am and L takes me by car to get the tram from Altrincham to Trafford Bar and a wet walk up to the start pens. The trams were packed to capacity.
I’m in the penultimate pen (“slow coaches who might just keep going”?) and we eventually find it...only for L to recognise a friend and her 17 year old daughter who does babysitting for L’s daughter. Among thousands of runners. (This sort of thing happens whenever I’m out with her and I’m slowly getting used to it.)
The rain is coming down quite hard. I keep my running waterproof on and the water dripping off is slowly soaking my shoes. I discuss with L how I meant to bring a bin bag or a clear disposable cape...which I have in my car and L remembers she has some in her’s too.
Saying my goodbyes to L, I chat to her friend and daughter and we compare our ambitions for the run. I’m hoping to get close to 2:30:00, ideally below but realistically not - someone lovely has completely disrupted my training, which is brilliant.
My wave is the 6th to go and we get to cross the start line at 9:33am, I remember to start my Garmin and I’m off. First k in quite persistent rain, so I keep my jacket on. After this the rain eases a lot and I’m getting hot, so I disrobe, shake off some of the water and bunch up the jacket to run with it in my hand for half a k. This soon gets boring and I tuck it inside the Salmon vest on the side opposite the water bottle I’m carrying. I look like Les Dawson’s old woman!
My plan had been to take a gel on approach to the first three water stations - roughly 35 mins apart - so I had written the distances on a post it note ready to copy onto my arm. Oops. Forgotten. Instead I take gels after each station and use the water I’m already carrying to wash them down.
The crowds were good. Not massive but keen and supportive. Lots of youngsters wanting high-fives, lots of people offering jelly babies or other sweets, even some carrot cake (missed it!) and lemon cake (didn’t miss it and it was delicious).
Up to about 12k I was feeling really good. From there I was tiring. I took a Reon caffeine powder and kept going. I was soaked with rain and sweat and generally feeling fairly uncomfortable.
By about 15k we hit some “hills”. These were roads going over railway lines or canals, some long and relentless, some sharp “up and down”. They hurt. I was determined to keep going and ran every step but I went from about 90 seconds up on pace to just behind by 17k and, with that, my stamina started to drain.
Jelly babies to the rescue, more chugs of water, keep going keep going. But I knew my ideal time wasn’t happening today.
A woman ahead of me was Jeffing the whole run. As I was breathing hard I noticed she would run off ahead; walk; hear me looming behind and start running again. It really p’ed me off, to be honest, but it clearly worked for her.
I did enjoy the variety of loud leggings and socks, one or two particularly nice derrières and some impressive pony tails. Get your motivation where you can!
Nearing the end, energy really low, glad to be almost over. I spotted what I thought was the finish line time clock up ahead of me but, as I got closer, it was just a Transport for Greater Manchester sign. Drat.
The finish came and I was relieved. Nice applause and cheers on the final stretch; good coordination across the line, get a medal and wander as directed into the “athletes’ village”. A space blanket would’ve been really welcome but there seemed to be none.
Moments after I crossed the line I got a text confirming my official time - 2:36:54. About 1k slower than I’d hoped but my second fastest Half according to Strava.
No finishers goody bag, no shirt. But lots of people with pints of beer. Erdinger had their Alkohol Frei cans, branded as “isotonic recovery drinks”, and it was delicious nectar.
I try to send L a message to tell her I’ve finished and I’m heading for the trams to come home...but my phone (and every article of clothing I’m wearing) is soaked and I can’t unlock it. Eventually I manage and join the huge crowd at the tram stop. We all pour on to the tram as one and have a most uncomfortable, sweaty journey back to Altrincham.
I was home by about 1pm and in a hot, Epsom Salts bath that L ran for me shortly after. Ouch. Major chaffing from wet shorts!
So. That was an experience. My first organised Half Marathon.
My take home is I prefer running 10k (but don’t really see the point, for me, of entering races for this distance). I’m doing the Wilmslow Festive 10k to support a VRB but I don’t think I’ll do more of them. 10 miles is about my “natural limit”, and I’ll try to keep this distance in my legs.
I was disappointed with my time initially. But talking to L about it, I know I could’ve gone faster with better training over the last few months...but that would’ve been at the expense of time with her. I’d not swap those 7 minutes for our relationship and my current happiness.
Half Marathons are hard work. They are certainly less than half as hard as a full marathon, and I know I’m nowhere near even thinking about one of those. I keep looking at the 100k, 2 day “Race to the Stones”. And I’ll just keep looking!
But Half Marathons are do-able. Do the training, plan your hydration and fuelling, just run. And it’s certainly going to be a while before I try one again.
I’m in that chilled after-glow and the world is fine. Enjoy your next run.
Manchester Half
Half-Marathon ....Maybe
Half marathon training started!
Tourist Run in Manchester 
