Following my brave attempt at conquering the Watford Half Marathon, the roadshow moved onto Brighton for my ‘Olympic Final’. Basically, I had set myself two short-term goals following my August family holiday in Cornwall of last year (following the energy sapping Gloucester City Marathon in mid-August); To break my Half PB at the Oxford Half in early October and to do it again at Brighton in February 2017. To put some context into this, I have to set goals to help motivate and drive me through my lonely training runs and gym sessions. Given my fairly creative and child-like mentally, I then build dramatic stories and scenarios around them, so in racing terms, these would be the pinnacle of my professional athletics career, with Oxford being the World Athletics Championships and Brighton, the Olympic Games. No pressure then…

I duly completely the first leg of this historic double in Oxford, so had Brighton firmly in my sights following a two month sabbatical from booze and anything bad (see earlier blogs).

Doubts, however, started to creep into my mind about a week ago with the media frenzy surrounding the arrival of Storm Doris (Doris? Really?). Frantically checking the BBC weather app every 10 minutes on the run-up to the race, the forecast didn’t look great, with wind speeds fluctuating from between 15 to 40 mph over the race weekend.

Oh, and the other fly in the ointment was the frozen shoulder I’d mysteriously developed the week leading into the race. It never rains…

Anyway, I’d pre-booked the Ibis City Centre hotel in Brighton months ago as I knew accommodation wouldn’t be easy to source with over 8,000 runners converging on the area. A point to note – when I ran this race last year, it was easy to find cheap accommodation (why wouldn’t you in late February?) and I paid around £60 for a decent double room at the Premier Inn. This year however, the hotel chains of the UK must have cottoned-onto the fact that it was ‘Olympic year’ by trebling their prices for the Saturday night! After extensive Google and internet searches, I paid £160 for a room on a par to last year. Ouch.

The three and a half hour journey across from the west (using every motorway and major road artery in the South East) was met, upon arrival, with an email from the race organizers advising that the secure baggage drop would be open air (and water-proof bags were recommended) due to the high winds and hazardous conditions. Not the news I wanted to hear.

You might think that this is a long way to travel for a half marathon. The reason being is that Brighton holds a place close to my heart. Growing up in Hertfordshire, I visited this seaside town many times as a kid and more regularly as an adult for day trips, weekend breaks and work conferences at The Grand. I even got engaged to my wife there and had Brighton as one of the table names at the wedding.

After checking-in, I took a stroll down to the seafront and struggled and duly clung on to a railing by the famous Palace Pier to admire the views (or lack of, due to the sea mist and low lying clouds), which prompted me to immediately turn round and head back towards The Lanes for a hot chocolate and cupcake (us runners certainly know how to do rock n’ roll on the eve of a race!).

Italian (heavy on the carbs) for one (as you do when you’re a Lone Strider) after finally finding a restaurant that had availability at 6pm (thanks ASK!,) was followed by an evening of checking the weather forecast for tomorrow, reading, checking the weather and applying Deep Heat to my frozen shoulder (repeat 20 times) before getting an early night.

Race Day…upon opening the curtains, my world crumbled. Blustery, high winds, thick fog and rain. Rain! Thanks for sticking the knife in, Brighton! No way am I going to do a PB today. Months of training, abstinence and generally living like a monk had been a complete waste of time. These are not Olympic conditions. I am not going to be an Olympian today.

According to my BBC weather app, the temperature was around 9-10 degrees at 9am with the wind (in a north easterly direction) ranging from between 16-20 mph, complemented by rain and heavy cloud cover. Oh joy!

After checking- in my bag and going to the loo… a decent number of cubicles and yes, they had urinals for us chaps, I met my running buddy for the day and lined up with the 1.45 pacemakers (Brian and Andy). The plan had always been to stay with them until 10 miles and then kick-on, with the aim of going sub 1.44 to win the Olympic Gold and break the World Record. The wind and weather conditions however, were likely to scupper these plans, but I was prepared to give it a go. The race was started by Brighton’s very own Norman Cook (Fatboy Slim), who was also running, and we were off at 9am sharp.

The first mile (in and back out of the town past the Royal Pavilion), was so tight and congested that I had to barge and bump my way past runners just to keep with the pacemakers. It was like something out of an early 80’s middle distance race at a major athletics Championships. Strong elbows and a steely determination were the order of the day.

Mile 2 was a similar affair, heading back out of town onto the front again. By mile 3, the field had thinned out just enough for me to assume a positon on the shoulder of Brian (who was constantly chatting with Andy to ensure the pace was where they needed it to be) as we headed out of Brighton up and down a series of gently ascending inclines (no hills anywhere on the course) towards Ovingdean and Rottingdean. We had the advantage of the wind behind us on this stretch, which allowed energy to be kept in reserve for what was literally just around the corner, where the real fun began!

Unfortunately for me, this was a double whammy, as not only did the headwind suddenly kick-in as we u-turned back on ourselves on a tight hairpin at 4.25 miles, but someone bumped me at that very moment which hit the pause button on my watch! The chances of that happening must be a million to one! I heard the beep and glanced down to see what had happened, trying to retain my focus on the race in hand. When I finally realized it had paused, I instinctively re-started it, but quickly knew that the damage was irreversible. I was now 0.25 miles behind the actual distance travelled and about 2 minutes off my actual race clock. Noooooooo! There was nothing else to do now but to run ‘blind’ and rely on the pacemakers for guidance. This is not an Olympic day!

Miles 4 to 10 were then essentially a battle against the wind, physical and mental fatigue. Since the race, I’ve read that runners far quicker and experienced than me fell foul to the wind and rain, so this goes to show what a tough gig this half was turning out to be. There was a slight respite from the conditions (mentally) as we descended back down to the seafront at around miles 6-7 and were greeted by crowds of vocal and enthusiastic supporters lining either side of the road and congregated in great numbers in front of the Palace Pier.

I wasn’t feeling too bad at this stage, but the slog along the seafront towards the turn at Shoreham Port began to take its toll between 7 and 9.5 miles. I was beginning to struggle and forced my own pace and efforts up to hang onto the pacemakers, but could feel my energy levels and reserves emptying quickly. My shoulder was killing me now (it felt like a cross between a stitch and running with a heavy bag on my shoulder). I’d taken my second gel at 10K (the first on the starting line), and whilst usually waiting until 10 miles, I decided to go early-doors and take the final one at 9.7 ish. Whether or not this kicked in immediately, or it was just psychological, I don’t know, but I suddenly felt OK, knowing that after the turn, we would have a tailwind for the last 3 miles.

At 10 miles I thought I might be around a minute inside 1.45 pace, but had no idea of knowing (apart from the messages Andy was shouting out to the pack around him), so stayed slightly in front of the pacemakers. It was at this point I must have switched off, ‘chilling’ as I glided past the beach huts, thinking I was almost home and dry. In footballing terms, I was ‘ball-watching’ (apologies if you don’t get the parlance), because all of a sudden, I glanced to my left only to see the pacemakers cruise past me, and I couldn’t respond to their pace. They were going away from me! I tried to re-focus and increase my efforts but I couldn’t catch them. It was over…surely. Months of training, sacrifices, the weather, the long journey down to Brighton. All for nothing.

Re-winding back to my lonely training runs and gym work, I was now aware of their importance. Building up strength and resilience to deal with situations just like this. I then remember something my sporting hero, Roger Federer, said before the 2017 Australian Open Final. He was prepared to leave everything out on the court that day and if it meant not being capable of playing (or walking!) again for 4 months, he was prepared for that if it meant winning the title. The juices then started to flow (cue, Rocky training music) and I got a fire in my belly. I could do this. I could f**king do this. Just give everything you’ve got for 2 miles then worry about the legs afterwards!

We re-joined the road again at 10.75 miles and by 11 I knew what I had to do (in hindsight, I must have run a slow mile between 10.5 -11.5 to fall away so badly). With the crowds once again in force, I began to make my move. Reel them in slowly. Not too quick or you’ll run out of steam too early. I started to close on the 1.45 pack and with a mile to go, I went for it. Pain etched on my face, body contorted, I just went for it.

With about half a mile left and the finish line clearly in sight I ran past the pier and then accelerated. I was catching them. I was dying on my feet! I’m gonna do this! I reached Brian and Andy (the pack had completed dispersed by this point) about 250 metres out and momentarily slowed, turned to them both and told them that I loved them! I then pushed and pushed and pushed and virtually collapsed at the finish….which I’ve never done before.

I still had no idea of the time, but thought I must have a PB since I’d finished ahead of the pacemakers. After a lengthy walk back to the bag drop, receiving a big, fat medal, energy drink, water and various energy bars and snacks (no finishers t-shirt!), I got my rucksack and immediately went for the phone as I knew the official times would be text though.

I tentatively opened the text (it was waiting for me! It was like getting my A-level results)…1.43.59! YES!!!!!! OMG! I’d done it…by 1 second! It was the most unbelievable feeling. 1.43.59 was a million times better than 1.44.00! I had beaten my PB by 56 seconds with a frozen shoulder and in terrible running conditions! I’d won the Olympic Final and broken the World Record! Aaaaaaaaaaand breathe…

As I walked back towards town to shower, check-out and head home, I wanted to take in the atmosphere that had largely passed me by during the race due to my sheer concentration and focus on what I’d been trying to achieve. The crowds still were roaring runners down the home straight (as I’m sure they’d done for me), shouting words of encouragement, and messages to friends and family they’d picked out. It made the hairs on my neck stand on-end. I was so proud of everyone out there at that precise moment. They were all running for good courses, to achieve their own PB’s or just to be part of such an amazing event. I brushed past families and friends congratulating loved ones, kids hugging their mums and dads who were enthusiastically telling their own war stories (“I did it! I broke 2 hours!” was my favourite moment, as a mum proudly broke the news to her little boy and husband).

My story is a tiny piece of a monumental day that I am so proud of. The amazing memories of the whole weekend will live with me forever. But me being me, I’ll walk on Cloud 9 for a couple of days before putting my trainers back on and setting a new PB and series of goals. That’s running for you. Always trying to raise the bar and chase the impossible dream. But for now, I’m an Olympic Champion…

(written 27/02/17 - before confirmation was provided that the course was slightly short!)