An early start saw the intrepid Tuck family minus eldest daughter but with added in-laws eschewing the normal relaxing Saturday before the big race and heading up to Gateshead for the Mini and Junior Great Run events.
On what turned out to be a gloriously sunny day we had an absolute ball. First up was youngest daughter running in the Mini event. She’d played cat and mouse with her parents for the preceding week as to which of us would have the honour of being her accompanying adult.
On what turned out to be a gloriously sunny day we had an absolute ball. First up was youngest daughter running in the Mini event. She’d played cat and mouse with her parents for the preceding week as to which of us would have the honour of being her accompanying adult.
Luckily for me I got to wear the coveted adult badge. This meant that I got to take part in a rather excitable warm up culminating in multiple renditions of the “Mo-Bot” and the “Lightning Bolt”.
Never has the adult label been such a misnomer as I let loose my inner camp all over the Quayside.
Once we were off and running I introduced her to our usual family race strategy. Spot someone, chase them, overtake them, spot the next one, chase, overtake......... She took to it like a duck to water. In fact she may have liked it a little too much. I might need to keep an eye on her if she’s not to turn out as insanely competitive as her mother.
The boy wonder was up next running in the junior race. Sadly, he is of an age now where he knows I’m massively embarrassing to be around so he ran on his own. Having moaned all the way up to the event despite it being his idea he did seem to thoroughly enjoy it.
The boy wonder was up next running in the junior race. Sadly, he is of an age now where he knows I’m massively embarrassing to be around so he ran on his own. Having moaned all the way up to the event despite it being his idea he did seem to thoroughly enjoy it.
His personal highlight was being high-fived by “A Ginger Team GB athlete with a gold medal round his neck”. His words not mine.
Thank you to Greg Rutherford, you made his day. You’ve also ruined mine as I checked whilst writing this and you were born in 1986 just two years before I left school, thus making me officially ancient.
Onto the big day and the weather had changed from the lovely sunshine to cool and overcast. Usual race day routine of up, dressed, breakfasted, numbered up and then Vaseline applied to all those places male runners need to ensure stay chaff free.
Last minute goodbyes to the kids who frankly couldn’t care less and it was off on the Metro with Mrs Tuck, our mate Paul and the familiar mixture of excitement and nerves churning the stomach.
High on my list of race day priorities is timing the all important final wee. Go too early and you are bursting in the starting pens. Too late and you either miss the pens closing or end up running over the start and straight into the bushes on the side of the road.
Luckily this year I got it just about right. Despite some ominous bowel rumblings which I put down to nerves I was in place on time and ready to go. Some faffing about with the Garmin meant I didn’t repeat the warm up routine from the Saturday and all of a sudden we were underway.
It took us just over five and a half mins to get over the start and then it was off down the Central motorway heading to Shields. To celebrate the momentous occasion it started to rain.
I think it would be fair to say I’ve had a few ups and downs preparing for this race so I took a cautious approach. “Plan the race, then race the plan” was the mantra.
The plan such as it was called for a nice easy start and then just to keep a steady pace and that’s how it stayed. This was the first time in a couple of years that I’ve ran the race on my own and it felt really comfortable. I was able to zone out bar the odd chat with some runners around me whilst enjoying the crowds, the Tyne Bridge, the Red Arrows and all the other bits and pieces you see as you go along.
All the usual suspects were in evidence bar one notable absence. There is normally a man each year in Jarrow who stands on the roof of the bus stop opposite his house hosing down the competitors as they pass. He nearly did for my iphone in its arm holder last year so I made sure I was on the opposite side of the road as I approached his normal spot but he wasn’t there. Hopefully it was only the weather putting him off, as we couldn’t get much wetter and he’ll be back in all his sadistic glory in 2013.
Around the course all the runners got offered the usual assortment of jelly babies, oranges, cakes, biscuits and in a fit of genius some beer by a group of men on the John Reid Road. I declined all of these, not on hygiene grounds – I just can’t eat or drink beer when I’m running.
The only thing I ever turn down on hygiene grounds is the Vaseline proffered by the St John’s Ambulance volunteers at various points on the race. No offence meant and I’m sure it’s perfectly ok but who knows how many hands have touched theirs and where those hands have been. Especially the mens.
So, on I went tootling along quite nicely until I hit the Nook in South Shields. It’s at this point that I realise I’m really lucky because in the latter miles of the race I get to see my parents, various friends and on the final bank dropping to the seafront my family. In particular it’s the kids who always give me a welcome boost to get along the last mile and over the line.
Buoyed by all the support I set off along the Coast Road for a finishing time of 1:51:59 which is a new PB and a steady improvement over my previous times. That’s the benchmark set for next year when I’ll try and improve once again.
Slow and steady wins the race or in my case slow and steady completes the race without troubling any of the fast runners in anyway shape or form.
Having finished, it was just a matter of picking up the goody bag and eating everything in sight while I waited for Mrs Tuck to finish. She had a terrible time last year suffering from awful calf cramps from 8 miles onwards which really put her through the mill.
This year she got cramps again but kept on going for her own PB knocking sixteen minutes off her previous best. I’m a very proud boy.
It just leaves me to say well done to everyone who took part in the Great Run events over the whole weekend and to all my fellow bloggers. Also a big thank you to North East Runner for publishing my half arsed attempts at stringing sentences together. It’s been fun.
Thank you to Greg Rutherford, you made his day. You’ve also ruined mine as I checked whilst writing this and you were born in 1986 just two years before I left school, thus making me officially ancient.
Onto the big day and the weather had changed from the lovely sunshine to cool and overcast. Usual race day routine of up, dressed, breakfasted, numbered up and then Vaseline applied to all those places male runners need to ensure stay chaff free.
Last minute goodbyes to the kids who frankly couldn’t care less and it was off on the Metro with Mrs Tuck, our mate Paul and the familiar mixture of excitement and nerves churning the stomach.
High on my list of race day priorities is timing the all important final wee. Go too early and you are bursting in the starting pens. Too late and you either miss the pens closing or end up running over the start and straight into the bushes on the side of the road.
Luckily this year I got it just about right. Despite some ominous bowel rumblings which I put down to nerves I was in place on time and ready to go. Some faffing about with the Garmin meant I didn’t repeat the warm up routine from the Saturday and all of a sudden we were underway.
It took us just over five and a half mins to get over the start and then it was off down the Central motorway heading to Shields. To celebrate the momentous occasion it started to rain.
I think it would be fair to say I’ve had a few ups and downs preparing for this race so I took a cautious approach. “Plan the race, then race the plan” was the mantra.
The plan such as it was called for a nice easy start and then just to keep a steady pace and that’s how it stayed. This was the first time in a couple of years that I’ve ran the race on my own and it felt really comfortable. I was able to zone out bar the odd chat with some runners around me whilst enjoying the crowds, the Tyne Bridge, the Red Arrows and all the other bits and pieces you see as you go along.
All the usual suspects were in evidence bar one notable absence. There is normally a man each year in Jarrow who stands on the roof of the bus stop opposite his house hosing down the competitors as they pass. He nearly did for my iphone in its arm holder last year so I made sure I was on the opposite side of the road as I approached his normal spot but he wasn’t there. Hopefully it was only the weather putting him off, as we couldn’t get much wetter and he’ll be back in all his sadistic glory in 2013.
Around the course all the runners got offered the usual assortment of jelly babies, oranges, cakes, biscuits and in a fit of genius some beer by a group of men on the John Reid Road. I declined all of these, not on hygiene grounds – I just can’t eat or drink beer when I’m running.
The only thing I ever turn down on hygiene grounds is the Vaseline proffered by the St John’s Ambulance volunteers at various points on the race. No offence meant and I’m sure it’s perfectly ok but who knows how many hands have touched theirs and where those hands have been. Especially the mens.
So, on I went tootling along quite nicely until I hit the Nook in South Shields. It’s at this point that I realise I’m really lucky because in the latter miles of the race I get to see my parents, various friends and on the final bank dropping to the seafront my family. In particular it’s the kids who always give me a welcome boost to get along the last mile and over the line.
Buoyed by all the support I set off along the Coast Road for a finishing time of 1:51:59 which is a new PB and a steady improvement over my previous times. That’s the benchmark set for next year when I’ll try and improve once again.
Slow and steady wins the race or in my case slow and steady completes the race without troubling any of the fast runners in anyway shape or form.
Having finished, it was just a matter of picking up the goody bag and eating everything in sight while I waited for Mrs Tuck to finish. She had a terrible time last year suffering from awful calf cramps from 8 miles onwards which really put her through the mill.
This year she got cramps again but kept on going for her own PB knocking sixteen minutes off her previous best. I’m a very proud boy.
It just leaves me to say well done to everyone who took part in the Great Run events over the whole weekend and to all my fellow bloggers. Also a big thank you to North East Runner for publishing my half arsed attempts at stringing sentences together. It’s been fun.