So, after months of training on a diet of hangovers, sleep deprivation, work stresses and the re-occurrence of an old foot injury (November and December are fairly sociable months in my calendar), I’d knuckled down since New Year’s Day into a disciplined routine of gym work, long weekend runs, plenty of sleep, healthy eating and a complete alcohol ban. The only thing hindering a decent stab at this notoriously tricky race was a nagging cold that I couldn’t shift.

Finally, the Watford Half was upon us.

I first ran it last year as part of my recovery programme following said foot injury, and had heard how tough it was. Although I grew up in the Watford area, I’d never considered as being a hilly part of the world, but step two or three miles outside of town into the Hertfordshire countryside and the landscape is littered with gorgeous villages and hamlets, surrounded by rolling fields, country lanes and the odd hill or two.

Anyway, its reputation didn’t disappoint. It’s a brute of course, but more of that later.

I wasn’t on tip top form due to the aforementioned cold and chesty cough (which the majority of the UK population was dealing with around the same time), but I was as prepared as I could be. Conditions were almost perfect for half marathon running; 3 / 4 degrees centigrade and a light breeze of 7 mph.

The race carries great tradition in the South East and many runners participate from the Home Counties and local clubs in and around London. It is one of the first big Halfs of the calendar year and great preparation (given the terrain) for spring marathon training and a general assessment of one’s fitness at the start of the year.

The field was around 1,700, which was (I believe) the largest it had been. You can tell a serious race card when there is a distinct absence of super hero costumes and fancy dressed (Minions, 4-legged horses, televisions, etc) runners and an abundance of club vests, social running group logos and generally serious looking athletes (one guy’s dad was lacing up his trainers and pinning his number onto his vest for him!).

We were also lucky enough to have a team of Xempo pacemakers in the field with target times ranging from 2 hours plus down to 1.30 and below. Always a sign that the field are looking to target decent times.

The race village is situated in Cassiobury Park (fairly central to Watford) with limited parking on residential streets close by, along with the Town Hall car park and a small multi-story in Rosslyn Road. HQ is a large, white marquee that houses the registration desk (chips and numbers collected on the day, not sent out in advance), seating and changing areas, a bag drop and a massage area, of which donations go to the local Peace Hospice. The race host (for a better word) on the stage (where I assume the winners would be presented with their awards) armed with a mic, was a great character and kept the chatter going for the hour preceding the race, giving out useful information and keeping the mood relaxed and friendly whilst the runners prepared in the tent. 

Food and drink was also available, which was well-received by many of the family and friends of runners enduring the Sunday morning chill.

There were a reasonable number of toilet blocks/cubicles adjacent to the tent, but no urinals for men. I believe that race organizers are often missing a trick by not have a small proportion of these, since the vast majority of men just need a quick pee (pre-race nerves) prior to the start, which would free up the cubicles for the women. Cassiobury Park (being a park!) provided many men with the opportunity to sheepishly head towards the trees for some light relief when the queues were at their busiest just before the race!

With the tent and facilities set in the middle of a park in February, expect mud!

Also, a note of caution to runners who insist on running with headphones/music. The race rules state that any such devises are banned and anyone seen using them will be disqualified. Watford takes a zero tolerance approach, so if you can’t run without an iPhone or iPod, then this race isn’t for you.

So. Onto the race. After meeting up with a couple of running pals, we made our way to the starting pens. Red start for Veterans and Women and Blue for Senior Men. The starting horn sounded bang- on 10.30am and we were off. The first mile took us through the park on tarmac paths (with Red and Blue runners joining at about half a mile) and then out onto the residential streets of the Cassiobury estate, where there were a good number of supporters cheering the runners through the first few miles.

The fun really began at around 3 miles with a long climb up past The Grove Hotel estate, stringing the runners out at quite an early stage. An early test of your fitness, with 10 miles still to go! We were now in rural Watford with very little crowd support for the next 9 miles or so. Aside from the first mile or two, there is no flat terrain on this course; it is a series of steady climbs, twisting country lanes, tough hills and a couple of speedy descents, which give the lungs some much needed relief.

Knowing the course wasn’t PB material (mine of 1.44.55), I decided (with one of my buddies) to run with the 1.45 pacemaker and see how I felt as the race progressed. My plan (Yes, I did have game plan, as I was treating the race as a warm up to the Brighton Half later in February) was to attack the hills to test my strength and fitness (whether this was foolhardy or not, only time would tell!). So, on this pretense, I left the pack at 3 miles and kicked-on, not feeling too bad and running 1.52 min/miles.

At around 6 miles, the first of the two notorious hills (Bucks Hill) (after a speedy decent) loomed upon us. I really went for it and reached the top in reasonable shape, using the rarity of a flat few hundred yards to regain my form. By about 6.5 miles, but buddy had rejoined me and we headed up another incline at a fairly decent pace. I was really struggling at this stage (that hill had taken a lot out of my legs), so sat on his shoulder and hung on (with the aid of an energy gel) as best as I could, as I remembered from the year before that a gentle decent was on the horizon.

As we went through 8 miles, I informed him that the ‘B****d’ hill was shortly upon us. “What!? I thought that was at 6 miles” he exclaimed. “No, mate… that was its kid brother!” I righteously informed him…

As I approached the bottom of Dead Mans Ash hill (or the Wall, as I referred to it) I decided to attack it. The adrenaline was pumping and I shouted (minus the expletives) “I’ve **** got you. You’re **** nothing. You’re **** mine, you ****”. As I climbed the hill, I pictured that scene in my head from ‘An Officer and a Gentlemen’ when Richard Gere helps his female classmate over the assault course wall. “Walk the wall, Segar! You walk that wall!!” I then started shouting at myself as I approached the top (other runners must have thought I was a proper nutcase) before reaching the plateau, gasping for air.

This was followed by a speedy decent down to 9 miles, (the mass of galloping runners racing down the path at serious speed was like a scene out of The Lion King when the animals race across the savannah…) only to hit another tricky ascent after a sharp hairpin turn.

At this point, the 1.45 pacemaker and his pack went past us and I was now seriously out of gas. My buddy had nothing more to give and began to fade (his training had been disrupted by a bad back, and this wasn’t a course for someone struggling with fitness). I managed to sit about 30 metres behind the pack until 10 miles, when I pragmatically decided that catching them was futile and that a decent last 3 at my own pace, keeping my form and focus would be just as beneficial. A few more undulations and then a much needed descent (this time) down past The Grove Hotel (we’d rejoined the circuit that we went out on at circa 10 miles) meant I only had a couple of miles to go.

I toughed out the last two, running them fairly well (after one last short, steep incline before turning into the residential streets once more), and finished (back in the park) in 1.45.46. Only a minute off my PB, so on a fast, flat course minus a cold, I could feel that a fast time at Brighton was a possibility.

The medal (courtesy of Watford Harriers) was decent reward for my efforts, along with a tech tee and a cup of orange squash. The entry for non-affiliated runners was £27, and affiliated at £25, so reasonable value for a small event, considering the extent of the road closures.

Whilst I mentioned that there were very few supporters out on the course, the marshals, water stations and general race officials were amazing. These supportive, vocal and friendly bunch were a real credit to the town and the event organizers, that was well-received on such a tough course.  

The winner (Jonathan Cornish) came home is a very respectable 1.08.43.

Also, a mention to Watford Harriers and Sussex Sports Photography, who produced some great pictures of the race (which could be purchased at reasonable prices).

The Watford Half is a race rather than a fun-run, but suitable for all abilities and a challenging course for those runners who appreciate a very scenic, but challenging out of town race. A real test of fitness and endurance at is early stage of the season. Not too dissimilar to the St Albans Half, which is also a great event in Hertfordshire and held later in June.