In my heart of hearts I know it’s a race that’s gotten too big. It’s not a race for getting a PB unless you are right up the front as you have to run round 40 000 other people to do it. This often includes a man carrying a fridge or someone dressed as Scooby Doo.
Neither is it an easy course, drive the 13.1 miles in a car and you sail through to South Shields. Stick your trainers on and you find that it’s a lot hillier than you remember.
Neither is it an easy course, drive the 13.1 miles in a car and you sail through to South Shields. Stick your trainers on and you find that it’s a lot hillier than you remember.
It also features the longest last mile of any race I’ve ever done. Turn left at the bottom of the bank in South Shields remembering not to run down the stone steps at Marsden or stop for a ‘99 at Minchellas and the finish is in sight.
Except it isn’t.
The Coast Road is undulating, so for the majority of that final mile you can’t see the finish. All you can see and hear are supporters. The same people who come out year after year to support along the length of the route and in particular as you approach the finish.
It’s the support more than anything else that keeps me coming back. They generate a unique atmosphere and there really isn’t a race like it anywhere in the country. It’s the Great North Run and I’m running it again.
So how did I get myself into this predicament?
Back in 2008, I had a running epiphany. It was in Next of all places. Granted, not your normal place for a revelation but when the calling comes......
I’d called in to buy a new pair of work trousers. I’d needed a new pair or two for a while as I’d been wearing my current ones lower and lower whilst my stomach cascaded over the top. After I tried a few pairs on in ever increasing waist sizes I realised that I might have put a pound or two on. Maybe even a stone or three.
I decided there and then that something had to be done. Diets galore followed but crucially I started to run. 15 minutes the first time and I’ve kept at it ever since.
It’s stopped being a chore or something I do solely to lose or maintain weight (mostly because I can’t seem to lose or maintain any reasonable weight).
I can now say that I run because I love it. I couldn’t stop if I tried. I’m not a member of a running club as I don’t have the legs for the extreme short shorts beloved of the elites but I’m a runner nonetheless.
I’ve done short runs, long runs, taken part in triathlons, half marathons and completed my first marathon this year. My favourite race though is the Great North Run.
My preparation for the event this year has been a little bit up and down to say the least. My early season joy of completing my first marathon was tempered by the fact my immune system took a nosedive and I caught every virus going round. I pulled out of the Pier to Pier but made a brief return, running the 150th Blaydon Race in torrential rain.
After a cheeky holiday without the kids during which I ate and drank everything in sight I’ve started to get back into some form of regular training.
It’s now three weeks into my GNR training plan and things seem to be getting back to normal, albeit maybe slower than I’d like.
I’ve got a finish time in mind, but it’s not one I’m sharing with anyone at the moment. I’m going to blog about my training ups and downs for North East Runner. I’ve never blogged before so I’m guessing this could go one of two ways. We shall see, and hopefully we can have some laughs along the way.
Except it isn’t.
The Coast Road is undulating, so for the majority of that final mile you can’t see the finish. All you can see and hear are supporters. The same people who come out year after year to support along the length of the route and in particular as you approach the finish.
It’s the support more than anything else that keeps me coming back. They generate a unique atmosphere and there really isn’t a race like it anywhere in the country. It’s the Great North Run and I’m running it again.
So how did I get myself into this predicament?
Back in 2008, I had a running epiphany. It was in Next of all places. Granted, not your normal place for a revelation but when the calling comes......
I’d called in to buy a new pair of work trousers. I’d needed a new pair or two for a while as I’d been wearing my current ones lower and lower whilst my stomach cascaded over the top. After I tried a few pairs on in ever increasing waist sizes I realised that I might have put a pound or two on. Maybe even a stone or three.
I decided there and then that something had to be done. Diets galore followed but crucially I started to run. 15 minutes the first time and I’ve kept at it ever since.
It’s stopped being a chore or something I do solely to lose or maintain weight (mostly because I can’t seem to lose or maintain any reasonable weight).
I can now say that I run because I love it. I couldn’t stop if I tried. I’m not a member of a running club as I don’t have the legs for the extreme short shorts beloved of the elites but I’m a runner nonetheless.
I’ve done short runs, long runs, taken part in triathlons, half marathons and completed my first marathon this year. My favourite race though is the Great North Run.
My preparation for the event this year has been a little bit up and down to say the least. My early season joy of completing my first marathon was tempered by the fact my immune system took a nosedive and I caught every virus going round. I pulled out of the Pier to Pier but made a brief return, running the 150th Blaydon Race in torrential rain.
After a cheeky holiday without the kids during which I ate and drank everything in sight I’ve started to get back into some form of regular training.
It’s now three weeks into my GNR training plan and things seem to be getting back to normal, albeit maybe slower than I’d like.
I’ve got a finish time in mind, but it’s not one I’m sharing with anyone at the moment. I’m going to blog about my training ups and downs for North East Runner. I’ve never blogged before so I’m guessing this could go one of two ways. We shall see, and hopefully we can have some laughs along the way.
Preferably laughs with me - not at me. Although at me does seem the most likely outcome at this moment in time. To facilitate this, North East Runner have asked for a couple of photographs to accompany this first blog.
The picture on the right is me mistiming my marathon sprint finish. Simple error in hindsight, the finish line wasn’t where I thought it was. However, I do seem to have mastered the art of running without actually touching the ground. An added bonus was that my Garmin measured the course at 26.5 miles. In my mind and in my mind alone this fact makes me an ultra marathon runner. Probably.
The picture on the right is me mistiming my marathon sprint finish. Simple error in hindsight, the finish line wasn’t where I thought it was. However, I do seem to have mastered the art of running without actually touching the ground. An added bonus was that my Garmin measured the course at 26.5 miles. In my mind and in my mind alone this fact makes me an ultra marathon runner. Probably.
Having completed my ultra marathon I proceeded to force the poor lady (above) giving out the medals to award it to me, rather than just hand it over. I would have liked a podium but my legs were shot at this point so may have struggled to climb the steps.
Last but not least, every home should have one of these. There is no finer feeling than stealing the kids marker pens and crossing out a completed training session.